


Red & Green

by Cthrag_Yaska



Category: Batman: The Animated Series, DC Animated Universe (Timmverse), Harley Quinn (Comics), Poison Ivy (Comics)
Genre: And chapter 11, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, He ain't coming back, In chapter 9, Joker is dead though, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Past Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Sex in a Changing room, Tags May Change, childbirth in chapter 13, i hate describing dresses 0/10 would not recommend, no plot fluff only, obscenely self-indulgent fluff, population: harley and ivy, welcome to nauseating domesticity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25549519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cthrag_Yaska/pseuds/Cthrag_Yaska
Summary: After the final confrontation between Batman and the Joker following the kidnap and torture of Tim Drake, the Joker was dead and Harley was assumed so. But as always, assumption is the mother of all fuckups. And speaking of mothers, Harley has been left with a problem and exactly one person she can turn to. The same one she always turns to.(Title changed from 'Baker Street' 19/08/20)
Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 102
Kudos: 255





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you have not seen Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker then here is what you need to know: Harley helped the Joker to kidnap Tim Drake, who was held prisoner in the ruins of Arkham while the Joker tortured him for weeks, trying to mould him into Joker 2.0. By the time Batman and Batgirl found them, it appeared to have worked but when ordered to kill Batman to make 'daddy' proud, Tim killed the Joker instead. He dead. Like so dead. Like OMG dead. His corpse was buried in the Arkham ruins. Meanwhile, Harley fought Batgirl, and wound up falling to her presumed death. But they never found her body. You know what that means. Poison Ivy didn't.

** Red & Green **

_Red and green together be seen  
__In the dark time of the year  
__Red and green together be seen_  
_In the time of dread and fear_  
\- Maddy Prior, 'Red & Green'

It seemed like Ivy had been mistaken about her immunity to toxins. Apparently she could still get drunk if she just tried hard enough. Ivy had spent the past fortnight in a haze of alcohol, losing count of the number of bottles of vodka she’d gone through; only knowing that there were enough empty ones scattered around the room to trip her whenever she moved from her bed. Which wasn’t often.

Harley. Oh god.

With a low moan, Ivy groped blindly for another bottle, not bothering to switch the light on. The first two she found were empty, but the third still had a fair amount sloshing around the bottom. She opened it with a careless twist of her wrist, taking a long pull at it and grimacing slightly as it burned her throat. But it eased the pain.

Harley.

Ivy knew she was dead. Exactly what had happened in the ruins of Arkham was anyone’s guess, but the Joker hadn’t been seen since. Maybe because he was still there, in a shallow grave deep beneath the building. Ivy laughed hollowly at the thought. What she’d always longed for. Yet... now it meant nothing.

She’d seen it with her own eyes. While she’d been looking for Harley. Ivy had heard that Batman was going crazy looking for his stupid sidekick and she’d had a terrible suspicion. The Joker was crazy, yes, but was he _that_ crazy? The stories she’d been hearing about Batman had been worrying. That he was getting close to the edge. That he was getting more violent. And if the Joker was behind Robin’s disappearance, Harley was directly in the line of fire. The clown would push her right into it to save his own hide. Ivy had known she had to get her away from there - and away from _him_ \- before Batman tracked him down.

But she’d been too late. The Arkham ruins had been deserted, destroyed, and all she’d found had been freshly turned earth deep in what had once been the cellars. She’d looked, of course, because she had to _know_ … yet what she’d found had hardly reassured her. Batman had killed the Joker. Batman had _killed_. And Harley… Ivy hadn’t found any trace of her. Surely if Batman had killed her he'd have buried her with the clown. She must have escaped. _Must_ have. And she’d turn up at Ivy’s place later. Yes. She would. Ivy had hurried back to wait for her… but Harley had never shown up.

And then the news reports. Saying Harley was presumed dead. No body. Something had happened. Batman had done something to her. Something bad enough to make him hide her corpse better than he'd hidden the Joker's. They were just keeping it quiet.

That was when Ivy had started on the vodka. The plants had tried to comfort her; vines coiling around her shoulders, creepers bursting into sweet-scented blossom and caressing her face with soft petals. But it didn’t help, and eventually they had retreated back to their planters to let her mourn in peace.

Ivy could have called them back with the slightest of efforts, but she didn’t. She wanted to be alone. She wanted Harley. For the first time in her life, her children meant nothing. As much as she loved them, they couldn’t break the crypt-like silence with gleeful laughter, or drive her to distraction by cavorting around the small apartment while she was working, or provide the warmth of another body curled beside hers at night. Turning onto her side with a moan, Ivy let go of the now-empty bottle, hearing it land amongst the others with an almost musical clink. She made a mental note to buy more as she caught hold of a pillow and clasped it to her chest and face, her eyes tightly closed as a tremor ran through her body.

Ivy had always known Harley was one of- no, her _only_ weakness, but she’d never realised just how great a weakness it was until now. Yet she couldn’t even bring herself to resent it. Or the burning tears that were forcing their way beneath her eyelids. Or the deep, tearing sob that forced itself from her throat as she began to weep - helplessly, furiously, desolately.

Poison Ivy was never supposed to cry.

Then again, Poison Ivy was never supposed to have her heart torn out and replaced with a cold, aching void that nothing seemed to fill.

Harley.

For several minutes, Ivy’s hoarse, racking sobs were the only sound, except for the faint rustle of the plants as they shifted and twisted in sympathy with her pain. She never heard the quiet click of the outer door, nor the padding footsteps that made their way along the hall to her room, pausing hesitantly at the sound of her weeping, then continuing decisively. The plants were aware of the intruder, of course, but they did nothing. In fact they were glad, but Ivy was too lost in her grief to notice.

But she felt the shift in the air when the door of her room was pushed open, and heard the glassy ping as it knocked an empty bottle aside. Batman. It had to be Batman. She’d kill him. Or if it wasn’t Batman, she’d kill them anyway, for daring to intrude upon her solitude. For seeing her cry. Snarling, Ivy pushed herself up into a sitting position as she whipped round somewhat unsteadily to face the intruder, wondering why on earth her children hadn’t warned her.

The answer to that was simple.

Because it was Harley. Out of her costume, fading bruises marking her arms and face, a couple of bandaids haphazardly placed over a gash on one side of her forehead. But Harley nonetheless.

Ivy could only stare, wordlessly, no longer caring about or even feeling the tears which were still rolling down her cheeks. She’d lost her mind. For real. She was hallucinating. Dreaming. Which explained why Harley did nothing but stand there and gawk at her silently. The real Harley was never silent. Then, as Ivy moved to wipe the tears from her eyes, the bizarre pseudo-standoff was broken. And Ivy suddenly found that she’d been thrown back onto the bed, with Harley’s arms wrapped tightly around her.

And Harley was warm.

“Red! What on earth _happened_ to you?!” Harley’s voice was shocked, horrified, her blue eyes wide with concern as she raised a hand to touch Ivy’s face.

Ivy couldn’t find the words to reply. The power of speech seemed to have deserted her entirely. Pushing herself back up, she covered Harley’s hand with her own; squeezing it to make sure it was as real as the rest of the blonde. With her free hand, she shakily reached out to stroke Harley’s hair, then down her neck, her eyes narrowing in hazy concentration as she tried to reconcile Harley being dead with Harley being _here_.

It didn’t make sense. Ivy felt fresh tears welling in her eyes, but couldn’t force herself to make any effort to fight them. Harley made no attempt to shush her, and instead gently pulled her head down - the rest of Ivy’s body following as she slumped against the other woman - to rest against her chest. Ivy didn’t even try to resist, and suddenly found that she was sobbing even harder than before as Harley stroked her red hair back from her face and rocked her like a child.

Harley found herself in shock. This wasn’t what she had expected. At all. She’d thought that Ivy would probably be mad at her for not letting her know she was okay before now, and that she might sulk a bit. Then Harley had gotten a bit more hopeful, and thought that maybe, just maybe, Ivy would be happy to see her and glad she was okay. Maybe she’d even tell Harley that.

The option that Ivy might actually have gone to pieces over her supposed ‘death’ and degenerated into a vodka-reeking wreck had never been even a remote possibility in Harley's mind. If she’d had even the slightest suspicion that Ivy would have been like this, Harley would have gone to her right away. But she hadn’t. She hadn’t thought _anyone_ would have reacted like this because of her. It gave her an odd, half warm and half guilty feeling inside. Did she really mean _that_ much to Ivy? Well, why else would the woman currently be sobbing into her chest with enough force to rock Harley’s entire body?

It suddenly struck Harley that despite a doctorate in psychology she had absolutely no idea what to do in this situation.

Harley was still wondering what the best course of action would be as Ivy’s painful, racking sobs gradually subsided into slow, deep breaths. Ah. There was the answer. Harley held her close and ran her free hand through Ivy’s tangled hair in long, soothing strokes until she was sure that the other woman was asleep, then gently laid her down upon the bed. Sleeping was good. Better than crying anyway. Ivy _never_ cried, yet even now Harley could hear the slight hitch of a sob in Ivy’s throat with each breath.

Harley waited beside her for nearly fifteen minutes, still stroking her hair. But Ivy showed no sign of waking, and no response to Harley’s hand as it gently touched her cheek. Harley felt it was safe to assume she wouldn’t be waking up for a while now and carefully drew the blanket up over her shoulders, stumbling a little amongst the empty bottles. She’d need to do something about those.

A sudden touch at her ankle made Harley jump. Thankfully, it was just one of the plants, and Harley relaxed as it sent a blossoming creeper winding snakelike around her leg and up to her chest. She’d gotten used to this long ago; the plants knew her and wouldn’t harm her. Maybe they’d thought she was dead too, and were glad she wasn't. Now there was a weird thought. The plant appeared to have satisfied whatever curiosity it possessed, and unwound itself from Harley’s body to return to its pot.

Turning back to the bed, Harley began to clear the empty bottles. She had to do _something_ , and cleaning up was the only thing springing to mind right now. Normally she’d have been happy just to snuggle up next to Ivy, but, well, neither she nor Ivy were exactly _normal_ right now. Technically they never _were_ normal - at least not as far as their official records went - but that was beside the point.

Besides, she still hadn’t figured out exactly how she was going to break her news to Ivy…

* * *

Ivy woke up several hours later with the pounding headache she’d grown used to over the past couple of weeks. She automatically began to grope for a bottle at the side of her bed, trying not to think about the dream she’d had. Harley was dead. Dreaming that she’d turned up alive and unharmed just made things worse. It wasn't the first time she'd had that dream, though the alcohol did make them harder to remember.

There were no bottles beside her bed. Not even empty ones. Ivy’s hand scrabbled futilely against the carpet for a few moments as this fact sank in, then with a start she realised that something, or someone, must have moved them. The plants. It had to be the plants. But as she slowly forced herself up to sit on the side of the bed, Ivy realised that not only were the bottles gone, but the room had been cleared of clothes, weapons and the other debris that she’d strewn uncaringly across it. The plants couldn’t have done all that.

But it couldn’t have been… Harley was dead! She’d been dreaming. Again. And Ivy didn’t want to even begin to hope otherwise, because she knew it would only make the pain worse once the hope was inevitably shattered. Even if she knew that the only person with a key to the apartment was Harley.

The bedroom door creaked, and Ivy’s head snapped up, her heart twisting painfully in a mix of fearful anticipation and a wild expectation she couldn’t suppress. Her breath hissed sharply between her teeth at the sight of the blonde woman now framed in the doorway and for the first time Ivy began to believe that maybe, just maybe, it hadn’t been a dream. Because otherwise she was suffering from some disturbingly realistic hallucinations. Or maybe she’d just gone _completely_ mad.

“Uhm… Red?” Harley was more than a little disconcerted by how Ivy was just sitting there, staring at her with an expression that seemed almost hungry. “How are you feeling? You were kinda… uhm… upset earlier…”

“It wasn’t a dream then? You’re really here?” Ivy’s voice was hoarse and rasping thanks to a combination of alcohol and her earlier sobs. “You weren’t killed like they said you were?”

The desperate hope in Ivy’s reddened eyes made Harley feel a curious mixture of pain and satisfaction. Pain because of the suffering she now knew that Ivy must have gone through, satisfaction that Ivy had gone through it because of _her_. She’d honestly never thought that Ivy cared for her that much. She had always felt that for Ivy she was a distraction, a hobby. That was certainly how the Joker saw her. Had seen her.

God, in all her concern over Ivy, she’d hardly thought of him since she'd got here. She hadn't even considered any new - but probably futile - ways she could wreak revenge on Batman. Then again, she'd pretty much stopped fantasising about those as soon as she'd discovered her... other problem. And somewhere in the back of Harley’s mind, she realised that meant something.

“I’m really here Red.” Harley said as she crossed the room to sit on the bed beside her, hesitantly placing one of her hands over one of Ivy’s. “I… kinda wanted people to think I was dead so I could escape, y’know, like Mistah J does. Did...”

“So you know then.” Ivy said it quietly, unable to summon even the slightest shred of remorse over the Joker’s demise, only a deep, heartfelt sympathy for Harley. Even though she'd wished him dead for years - had even made a morbidly detailed plan on how she'd kill him if he ever caused Harley's death, directly or indirectly - she knew that no matter how misguided Harley's affection had been, she'd be hurting now.

“I know Red.” Harley replied quietly, unable to stop the tears from welling in her eyes. “But… it’s weird, y’know? I always thought I’d be nothing without him, that I might as well die, but…” She laughed softly, self-mockingly. “…I don’t feel all that inclined to go lie under a bus.”

Ivy raised a hand to brush Harley’s tears away, a gesture that was partly automatic, and partly because she still needed to convince herself that the other woman was really _there_. “It’ll be okay Harley.” Ivy said gently, only just beginning to believe that herself. “I know it’s not easy, but I’ll be here for you, I promise.” What did worry Ivy was the thought that Harley might now throw her life away trying to avenge the clown. Because if Batman had killed the Joker, there was no reason he'd baulk from killing Harley too.

Harley didn’t look up, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hide the guilt in her eyes. It was all well and good for Ivy to be sympathetic _now_ , but when she found out about… well, found out? Harley had to tell her. Eventually she'd find out anyway.

“It’s… kinda funny actually Red…” she began with as much cheerfulness she could muster.

“What is?”

“Well, you see, Mistah J decided that he wanted an heir, right? And… so…” Harley’s voice tailed off as she shifted uncomfortably, her conscience finally getting to her as she remembered what he’d done. What she’d _helped_ him do.

“You kidnapped Batman’s sidekick.” Ivy supplied for her. “What on earth were you thinking Harl? You should have known he’d never let you get away with it…”

“I know…” Harley replied mournfully. “And it… we… it was really bad Red. What he did… what _we_ did… Maybe I should have done something. Stopped it somehow.”

“It’s okay Harl.” Ivy’s hand ran soothingly down her cheek, tilting Harley’s chin upwards so she could look at her. “It’s over now.” But Harley’s gaze slid stubbornly downwards.

No. It wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot. “Yeah… but I haven’t got to the punchline yet,” Harley giggled weakly. “Mistah J went to all that trouble to make that Robin kid into his heir, but it kinda turns out that he didn’t really have to…” She finally raised her eyes to meet Ivy’s, willing her to understand what she was trying to say.

Ivy stared at her for several moments as the words sank in. Until she realised exactly what they meant. “Harley… are you saying that he… that you’re pregnant?”

Looking away again, Harley nodded, fresh tears springing to her eyes.

“I’m sorry Red…”


	2. Chapter 2

“So... how long?” Ivy asked hesitantly.

“Not exactly sure,” the blonde replied, gazing down at her feet as they fidgeted nervously, scraping small arcs against the pile of the carpet. "At least eight weeks, maybe a bit longer." That seemed about right. And it meant she'd been pregnant the entire time Mistah J had been working on the Robin kid. While she'd been watching him work. The thought made her feel more nauseous than she did in the mornings.

“You’ve not seen a doctor yet?” The concern in Ivy's voice was touching, but Harley couldn't help a hollow laugh.

“I was laying low Red; I couldn’t risk it in case Batman caught me…” A shiver ran through her body as Harley remembered the look in his eyes when he’d seen what had become of Robin. “…I think he might have killed me if he had…”

They were sitting close together on the bed, Ivy still pressed against Harley to assure herself that the blonde was really there, one arm curled around her waist. And, given that some of Harley’s predictions had ended with Ivy throwing her out as soon as she knew she was pregnant, things were going better than anticipated.

“How did you find out?” Ivy’s question was gentle, her eyes soft with concern. Harley was really, really hoping this wasn’t to lure her into a false sense of security, because Ivy did that sometimes before yelling and the whole not-yelling thing was infinitely preferable.

“The usual way Red.” she replied with a soft chuckle. “Skipped a period, then realised 'hey, didn't that happen last month too?' And unless I’m in the less-than-one percent, then there’s no doubt about it.” Harley’s voice cracked slightly over the last few words, and she turned her head away once more, her voice dropping to a small whisper. “I’m sorry…”

“Stop saying that.” Again, Ivy tilted Harley’s chin back up to make the blonde look at her. “Did… did _he_ know about it?”

“Hell, _I_ didn’t know about it then Red. I didn’t even suspect until a week or so after… after what happened.”

_"Say hello to the new and improved Boy Wonder," Mistah J crowed with that devilish glee that she loved so much, then whipped the sheet off the old ECT table with a flourish. The boy that had been strapped to it was almost unrecognisable; his skin chalky white, hair dark green, and face twisted into a rictus grin as his wide eyes stared blankly ahead. For a moment, Harley thought he was dead, but then he began to giggle helplessly, teeth rattling as his jaws clattered like a Halloween skeleton._

_The Joker surveyed his creation with malevolent satisfaction, and what might almost have been paternal pride. "Now_ that _is what I call a son, Harley-girl. Thank god there's none of your genes in there to foul things up."_

_Harley applauded anyway as the boy's laughter began to sound more like shrieks._

Forcing that memory away, Harley gave Ivy a brittle smile, her voice trembling slightly. “An’ something tells me he wouldn’t exactly have been overjoyed at the prospect…”

“You’re probably right there.” Ivy said quietly, unable to repress a shudder at the thought. “But he’s gone now, so we…”

“We?” Harley’s eyes lit up with a desperate glow at that word. “You mean… you’re okay with this? You don’t mind that… that it’s _his_?”

“Harley!” Ivy’s shock showed in both her voice and expression. “How could you ever think that? Did you think I’d kick you out because you’re pregnant with _his_ child? That I’d…” Ivy broke off as she saw the look in Harley’s eyes, which was all the answer she needed. “…you did, didn’t you?”

Lowering her gaze, Harley nodded wordlessly, the rush of joyful relief she’d felt at first now muted by shame as she realised how badly she’d misjudged Ivy. Glancing up at her, Harley could see the hurt in the other woman’s eyes, and quickly looked away again. “…well… it’s not _your_ kid, Red… I thought that if I showed up here, pregnant, you’d just think I was just running to you because Mistah J was gone and I didn’t have anyplace else to go…”

“Harley.” Ivy’s voice was firm now. “That’s ridiculous.” Leaning forward slightly, Ivy laid one hand on Harley’s cheek, her fingertips gently brushing away the tears that were threatening to spill from the blonde’s eyes. “I don’t care what your reason is, just so long as it’s me you run to. That’s all that matters.”

Nervously, Harley met the other woman’s gaze again, but all she could see in Ivy’s green eyes was the utter conviction with which she’d said those words. Even so, Harley couldn’t keep the nervous trepidation from her voice. “Then… then you can still…”

Again, Ivy cut her off, this time with a soft kiss, feeling Harley jerk slightly in surprise, then press closely against her. “Of course I still love you Harl.” she whispered into the blonde’s ear as the kiss ended. “And nothing’s going to change that.”

For several long moments, Harley just clung to her, burying her face in Ivy’s shoulder as a shudder of emotion rippled through her body. Ivy still loved her. Mistah J was gone, but that hadn't destroyed her. For the first forty-eight hours afterwards, Harley had thought it would. She'd screamed and howled herself into near-catatonia after finding his body but when she'd came back to herself still in the ruins of Arkham it was self-preservation that had kicked in. If Batman had killed Mistah J for what he'd done to the kid, he'd kill her too for being part of it.

That was why she hadn't immediately gone to Ivy. If she had, and Batman had caught up with her, he'd think Ivy was involved too. Especially because of that one time where she and Ivy had stolen one of his other sidekicks with mind-controlling pheromones. Kind of fucked up that Batman had replaced that one with a little kid.

Instead, Harley had gone back to one of the older hideouts, changed into ordinary clothes, then holed up in a cheap motel. The grief was still there, but less raw, as if the initial hysteria had cauterised it somehow. And the snide voice of Dr Harleen Quinzel had commented that hey, maybe she was finally coming back to her senses. Harley had silenced that voice by proceeding to dream up plans for revenge - she'd almost killed Batman once and Mistah J was the only reason she'd failed. She could do it again. The Joker wasn't here to stop her now.

And then, a week later, Harley realised her period was late. Normally it was regular which was good because Mistah J had found that kind of thing absolutely repulsive and knowing when it was going to happen meant she knew when to keep a low profile. That was when she realised that the last one had been... not late, it hadn't happened at all. She'd had other things to worry about at the time, like not screwing up Mistah J's plan to kidnap the Robin kid, so it had slipped her mind. Until now.

And three separate pregnancy tests from three separate brands later, Harley knew why.

Snapping back to the present, Harley managed to speak again - her voice still edged with anxiety. “What… what should we do then, Red? About... about me…” Despite Ivy’s reassurance, Harley found that she still couldn’t quite approach the subject of her pregnancy without hesitation. Because no matter what Ivy said on the matter, it still wasn’t her problem or responsibility. And Harley was terrified that it would come between them in the end.

“We’ll need to leave Gotham.” Ivy’s reply was simple and determined. “As soon as possible.”

“Leave?!” Harley recoiled from her slightly in disbelief. She hadn’t been expecting that.

“We have to Harl. We can’t possibly stay here.” Ivy continued, her voice gentler but just as determined. “What do you think would happen if we were caught and put in Arkham, and they found out you were pregnant?”

Harley didn’t need much time to think that over. “…they’d make sure I stayed there until I had the baby, then take it off me the minute it was born…” she said quietly, one hand unconsciously sliding down to rest over her belly. "Then probably sterilise me for good measure."

“Exactly. That’s why we have to leave; we can get fake IDs and head off someplace to lie low for now.” Ivy’s mind was already racing, trying to work out where the best place to go would be, and trying to remember how to do simple things like getting a car and an apartment legitimately. Even if they weren’t in Gotham they wouldn’t be able to put so much as a toe out of line or they’d be caught.

Harley stared at the other woman in a mix of shock and disbelief. Ivy was prepared to leave Gotham for her? She had never expected that. Mistah J would never, _never_ have left Gotham to lie low, not unless he’d killed Batman first. But, as she forcibly reminded herself, Ivy was _not_ Mistah J. Ivy was prepared to put Harley’s needs first. And for some reason, Harley found that almost frightening.

“…are… are you _sure_ Red? I mean… what about everything you’ve got here? Your plants… and Batman…”

“Most of my babies can take care of themselves, Harley. They can manage without me," Ivy replied somewhat abstractedly, still focused on making a plan of action. "I'll need to move some of them, and take a few with us for protection, but otherwise they'll be fine. And Batman has plenty of other adversaries, he won’t miss two.”

“But don’t you want to be the one that beats him?” Harley's question broke Ivy out of her contemplation, but the contemptuous laughter it had inspired died on her lips as she saw the look on Harley’s face.

"I'd have thought you'd be the one that would want to beat him," Ivy said quietly, uneasily. "You don't want revenge?" She'd have been lying if she'd said the thought of Harley running off to avenge the Joker instead of running back to him hadn't been lurking at the back of her mind.

"Well, yeah, I did, but..." Harley shifted awkwardly, afraid that Ivy would laugh at her if she answered honestly. But she did anyway. "If I do, I probably lose the baby, one way or another. And it hasn't done anything wrong." Ivy didn't laugh. If anything, the look in her eyes made Harley feel even more awkward. "But if you still want to beat him..."

“I don’t _care_ about Batman.” Ivy said gently, taking Harley’s hand and holding it tightly. “As long as he stays here and doesn’t come after us, I’ll be happy. Won’t you?”

Silently, because she didn’t think she could voice the kind of emotions she was feeling right now, Harley nodded. And as Ivy hugged her, Harley clung to her as if Ivy was a lifeline that could save her from drowning. Maybe she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit exposition heavy, but it had to be done. Gets it out of the way.


	3. Chapter 3

In just under a month, everything had changed. Leaving Gotham had been much harder than Harley had expected - Ivy had never been entirely happy there, but to Harley it was home. She knew the city like the back of her hand - the best places for heists, the best places to either find or start a fight, the best back streets and alleys to shake off the cops or the Batsquad, the best sushi joints that weren't going to give you mercury poisoning.

Worse, there was no way they could bring the hyenas; Bud and Lou were just too distinctive. And if they were broken out of the zoo, Batman would know she was still alive. She couldn't even go to the zoo to say goodbye to them because the minute they smelled her they would have come charging over and drawn attention to her. Ivy had gone instead, and taken several photos of them in their new enclosure. The zoo had received a large funding boost recently - Catwoman had something to do with that as Harley recalled - and the hyena pit was much larger now, with actual savannah plants and shrubs. In the photos Bud was napping in the shade of an acacia, while Lou was gnawing on what looked like an entire cow femur. And since lounging and chewing were two of their favourite activities, at least it seemed like they'd be happy.

Harley hadn't looked back as they'd driven north. She knew that if she did, she'd probably cry and she absolutely did not want Ivy thinking she had second thoughts. Okay, so Harley was somewhat dubious about their destination - Vermont of all places - but Ivy had explained that they'd be able to cross the border into Canada easily if it came to that, and the state was over 75% forest. So if Batman did show up - god forbid - he'd been in for a fight. Ivy had also suggested Maine, but Harley had read way too many Stephen King books and associated that state with rabid dogs and undead toddlers. The only things she associated with Vermont were maple syrup and leaves.

A lot of leaves, as it turned out - Harley was still trying to adjust to how green everything was. Unlike Ivy, she’d been born and raised in the city, and the sudden move to a glorified cabin on the outskirts of a small town a spit away from the Canadian border was bewildering to say the least. Ivy had assured her that they were only here to ‘lie low’, and that after a couple of months they’d move to one of the cities - or whatever passed for a ‘city’ in this backwater - to be near a decent hospital.

Harley had known exactly what Ivy meant by that, and had let the matter drop. Like her increasing waist size wasn’t a constant and infuriating reminder already. One of Ivy’s first projects upon getting to Vermont had been to procure fake IDs - Hannah Rosenberg for Harley, June Woods for herself - and Social Security numbers for both of them, for the sole purpose of dragging Harley along to a clinic for a full examination and scans.

So now Harley knew she was about twelve and a half weeks pregnant, just about to hit the second trimester which was supposedly the least awful one, and facing the pastel atrocities that were maternity clothes. She’d told herself that there was no way she’d subject herself to that kind of indignity, and that if it came to the crunch then she’d just spend the remaining twenty-eight weeks or so in her underwear. Though that admittedly wouldn’t make her any less pregnant.

That reality worried her. Harley had never made any plans for what she’d do in this situation. Hell, she’d never even _thought_ about it. The same way she’d never thought about what she’d do if Mistah J was killed.

And she still wasn’t even sure exactly how she felt about that.

Harley had always thought that the Joker was the centre of her world, the axis around which her life spun. But now he was gone, and any plans she might otherwise have made to whirl off into self-destructive oblivion had been derailed the moment she'd been faced with multiple positive pregnancy tests. And her immediate instinct after that had been to run to Ivy. Because even if Ivy was still mad from the last time Harley had ditched her, Harley still trusted her implicitly. Ivy had always been there when she needed her, and this time had been no different. So instead of loss, all she'd felt was relief. Harley had wondered if she was maybe just numb from grief, but it was more like she’d… well… woken up. Like Gotham had all been some crazy dream, and now she was here with Ivy in Vermont.

…nah, if she’d dreamed it all, the cabin had to be the crazy part. Though right now Harley was wishing that she'd gone with Ivy to look at houses for when they were done lying low. Harley was still edgy about being seen in public given that she was presumed dead - going to the clinic had been nerve-wracking enough. But the real reason she hadn't gone was because she could only handle realtor sales pitches for so long before she wanted to murder them, and that would absolutely blow her cover.

Throwing herself down onto the sofa with a frustrated groan, Harley didn’t bother turning the TV on. No cable. She was amazed they even got _reception_ out here. Which was a pity, because right now, Harley really needed to be distracted. Even if it never really worked for long.

Because there was no getting away from the facts; the Joker was dead, she was alive, and there was nothing she could do about it. Or wanted to do about it.

That realisation threw Harley for a loop. She felt a momentary rush of fear for thinking something so treacherous - Mistah J would be able to read that disloyalty in her eyes even if she'd only thought it for a moment and there was no telling what he might do... if he wasn't already dead. Without even thinking about it, one of Harley's hands had moved down to her belly - which had only just started to curve outwards - to cover it protectively. There was no telling what the Joker would have done about _that_ either. Somehow, Harley was pretty sure that it wouldn't have involved dropping everything and moving to Vermont.

And Harley knew exactly what he'd done with his last 'heir'. She'd helped him do it. At least the guilt she felt over that never hit her as hard as her guilt for surviving, it just lingered there at the back of her mind. A high-pitched whine that flickered in and out of hearing just like the kid's screams had done. Would it have made any difference to the Joker if that kid had been his own? Regardless of how she felt about it, Harley was pretty sure that she knew the answer and the hand over her belly tensed.

Harley couldn’t help feeling guilty though. Like she’d betrayed Mistah J by surviving. The guilt of being alive while Mistah J wasn't would hit her like a gut-punch whenever she least expected it and made her want to curl up as if she actually had been gut-punched.

Which she had been. A few times. Usually by Mistah J. Harley could only imagine how angry he'd be to know that he was dead and she wasn't.

She’d tried reasoning to herself that since the Joker was dead, he was hardly in any position to care - or come after her for not throwing her life away to avenge him - but she still couldn’t shake off the nagging doubts. Especially when she realised that she was happy here with Ivy, even if it _was_ out in some god-forsaken wilderness. Even if Mistah J was gone. If it hadn’t been for Ivy then Harley knew she might very well have done something drastic and/or stupid. No, that wasn't quite true - the moment she'd found out she was pregnant had put an end to that kind of thinking. But Ivy's presence definitely helped keep her resolve.

And it was hard to feel guilty when she was curled up on the sofa next to Ivy, watching the flames dancing in the fireplace and feeling safe and secure for the first time since she’d started her internship at Arkham. Because she knew that Ivy would protect her, which was something she’d never have expected, much less gotten, from the Joker. And Ivy would never harm her either. Not even if she was mad, or bored, or wanted to test a new weapon or trap. And that would never change. Never.

Or at least that’s what Harley was desperately trying to convince herself of, anyway.

Ivy loved her. Ivy would stay with her. It didn’t matter that the baby wasn’t hers - well, _that_ would have been somewhat difficult - Ivy had said she would stay with her anyway.

But how many times had Harley promised Ivy that this time she'd stay? This time she was over the Joker for good, this time she wanted to be with someone who really loved her, this time she wouldn't sneak off in the night when the want, the overriding _need_ to be with her puddin' was just too hard to shake off despite the gentle arms wrapped around her. Harley had gotten really good at extricating herself from those arms without waking Ivy up and leaving without a sound. And she'd felt guilt - jeez, how much guilt could one person carry - but never for long. Not until she inevitably had to limp her way back to Ivy's door and hope that the green woman's concern for her would override her anger and hurt.

Harley knew she'd hurt her. She wasn't stupid. But that had never seemed important in the euphoria that she'd felt every time she'd run back to Mistah J's... well, not always his arms. Sometimes he hadn't even noticed she'd been gone. Sometimes he had, and while he didn't care where she'd been he had been furious that he'd looked for her and she _wasn't there_. Sure, sometimes - most of the time come to think of it - Ivy had been angry when she'd come back, but she'd swallowed that down and cleaned Harley's injuries. She'd never inflicted any. Ivy had always been _there_. Grudgingly or not, she had always let Harley back in and the relief she'd felt each time the door opened might not have been the same drug-high ecstasy she'd felt going back to the Joker, but it was warmer. It was real.

But what if that changed now? What if Ivy had finally decided that the best way of getting her own back for all the years of abandonment was to turn that back on Harley when she least expected it? What if Ivy just didn't return from this supposed house hunt and left her here? Or worse, what if Ivy was only staying now because Harley was pregnant? What if Ivy left after she’d had the kid? What on earth would she _do_ if that happened?

It wouldn’t happen. Harley would make sure of that. All she had to do was make sure she didn’t annoy Ivy, or make her mad - totally doable. After all, Harley had been able to avoid making the Joker mad most of the time and he had been a lot more unpredictable. And being sure to make herself useful would help too. Then Ivy would have no reason to leave. Granted, it wasn’t much of a plan, and failed to address the issue of what would happen _after_ the kid was born, but it was the best Harley could do for now.

And the sooner she started the better. Sighing inwardly, Harley forced herself back to her feet and headed through to the kitchen to start on the breakfast dishes. At least that would distract her from texting Ivy to ask if she was coming back, just for the reassurance that yes, Ivy _was_ coming back. Harley wasn't sure how she'd feel if she didn't get a response to that kind of text.

Ivy would know, since Harley had never responded to any of her desperate text messages when their positions were reversed.

Shit, _that_ guilt managed to hit like a gut-punch too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRUE STORY: The real reason they go to Vermont? (besides Maine being the Nexus Of Evil) Because when I originally started writing this, Vermont was the only US state to offer civil unions that gave gay couples the same legal rights and responsibilities as marriage. themoreyouknow.jpeg


	4. Chapter 4

As Ivy listened to Harley struggling into her jeans from the warmth of their bed, she reflected that things were indeed getting a bit strange. First of all, Harley was getting up before her these days - which had previously been almost unthinkable except on Saturday mornings. Ivy was starting to wonder if the sleeplessness was connected with the clown's death - was it grief or guilt that she was here with Ivy instead of back in Gotham trying to murder Batman? Harley had said very little about the Joker's demise, and Ivy had been reluctant to press the subject in case Harley thought she wanted to gloat about it. Which... was not entirely untrue. But surely if Harley was agonising over the clown finally getting what he had coming, she wouldn’t be spending her nights wrapped around Ivy's back like a koala.

Then again, guilt would explain why they hadn't made love since... well, since before Harley's presumed 'death'. They shared a bed and slept in each other's arms, but intimacy had never moved beyond kissing. Ivy didn't want to push the issue given Harley's condition - for all she knew pregnancy might have strangled her libido. That was certainly possible, and a much more comforting prospect than Harley not wanting to have sex with her out of some misplaced loyalty to the Joker.

Perhaps even stranger than her new morning routine was that Harley seemed to have taken to housework lately. Ivy normally had to resort to demands and outright bribery before Harley would even clear up the usual trail of destruction she left behind. And while what passed for Harley’s previous cleaning habits had been dictated by what was currently on TV, now it seemed that the blonde just couldn’t sit still if there were chores to be done. Ivy was pretty sure she hadn't had to do the dishes once since they'd gotten here.

Hormones. It had to be the pregnancy hormones affecting her brain. There was no other reasonable explanation. From what Ivy had read, nesting behaviour in pregnant women often involved compulsive cleaning - but it also didn't tend to kick in until the third trimester. Harley was only in her second. And extremely unhappy about it.

Tilting her head round to look at Harley, Ivy couldn’t help a smile as she watched her futile attempts to fasten her jeans. Now in her eighteenth week, Harley was - much to her disgust - visibly pregnant, her belly curving gently outwards. Ivy would have thought that this would have been enough of a clue in itself, but Harley was still adamantly trying to squeeze into her normal clothes.

“Harley.” The unexpected sound of Ivy’s voice made the blonde jump; clearly she’d thought that the other woman was still asleep.

“Yeah Red?” she replied, pausing for a moment in her battle to fasten her jeans. "Sorry if I woke you up."

"You didn't," Ivy said as she sat up in bed. “I think it’s about time you got some maternity clothes. You need them.”  
  
“ _Red_!" Harley's voice was shrill with outraged embarrassment as she crossed both hands over her swollen belly as if trying to hide it. "I do _not_! And they’re stupid anyway, all pink and flowery and junk!” Continuing her struggle with the jeans, Harley did her best to suck in her stomach. “And I can still fit into these anyway, look!” By sheer force she finally managed to fasten the top button, and turned back to Ivy with a triumphant grin. “See? I _don’t_ need maternity…”

Ivy couldn’t help a slight chuckle as the button unfastened itself the moment Harley straightened up. ”Oh yes you do.” she said firmly as she swung herself out of bed. “And we’re going shopping for some as soon as I’m dressed.”  
  
“But Red!” Harley wailed, still half-heartedly trying to button her jeans. “I’m only ever gonna wear them while I’m pregnant, and I’m not _ever_ doing this again, so there’s no _point_ in buying any and… and it’s not ecologically sound either! Is it?!”

“No buts, Harl." Stripping out of her nightdress with clinical efficiency, Ivy began to dress. Half turning as she pulled her own pants on with far more ease, Ivy saw the other woman avert her eyes, her face flushing. In the moment before she'd looked away, Harley's expression had seemed to indicate that she wanted to jump her. "We'll get some breakfast, then we're going clothes shopping."

Harley made a noise which suggested she would rather do anything but. "How about I just don't wear clothes for the next four and a half months?" The look she gave Ivy through hooded eyes made the green woman reconsider her previous thoughts on pregnancy having crushed her sex drive.

"That's not exactly going to help us keep a low profile," Ivy replied, with a high-pitched waver in her voice that wasn't normally there. Self-consciously clearing her throat as she focused on changing her skin tone to a normal human shade, Ivy was relieved to find that the waver had gone when she next spoke. "We're going, and that's final."

Harley's pout might not have been the smouldering look she'd given her previously, but it still made Ivy's knees want to tremble.

* * *

After an hour-long drive to the nearest large town, Ivy lost no time in literally dragging a surly and grumbling Harley into the maternity wear section of a department store. The blonde glanced around sulkily, visibly cringing at the amount of pink and frills, and clearly wanting nothing more than to be out of there.

“This stuff’s all stupid Red; I don’t wanna look like a freakin’ tent…” Harley muttered rebelliously. Even her determination not to annoy Ivy couldn’t compete with her determination to avoid being made to look like an idiot in one of _those_ dresses.

“Well we’re not leaving until you’ve gotten some clothes.” Ivy replied, in a tone that suggested they’d be camping out there if necessary. "Wearing tight clothes isn't good for you or the baby."

“Fine. You pick ‘em,” Harley pouted. “I don’t wanna.” At least that way she’d be able to blame Ivy for making her look stupid.

Raising an eyebrow, Ivy turned to one of the rails, and within moments had selected the most horrific pastel floral-print maternity dress she could lay hands on. Facing Harley again, noting with some satisfaction the look of utter horror on her face, Ivy flourished it at her.

“Oh, I think about half a dozen of these should do then…”

One look at Ivy’s expression told Harley that she wasn’t kidding. “Okay, okay, I’m looking already,” she groused as she almost rushed to the nearest, least pink rail.

Ivy smiled to herself as she returned the dress to its place and watched Harley shuffling reluctantly through the racks. From the way she reacted every time she found something that wasn’t pink, floral, or frilled, it was clear that Harley had previously had some very limited concept of what maternity wear looked like. Ivy also noted that despite this, Harley was trying to retain her sulky look as if she’d known all along. It was adorable.

It didn't take long for Harley to return with an armful of clothes. With a mixture of amusement and a strange pain she didn’t fully understand, Ivy noticed that the colours she’d picked were mainly red and black.

“I guess I could try these on.” Harley mumbled grudgingly. She was secretly overjoyed by the newfound knowledge that maternity clothes weren’t limited to muumuus that looked like they could double as a one-man tent, but didn’t want to lose face since Ivy must have known that already.

“Was that so bad?” Ivy asked as she took some of the clothes from the blonde, only getting a petulant head-shake in response. “The changing booths are over this way, come on.”

Harley followed with the same feigned reluctance. “Do you promise to tell me if they make me look stupid?”  
  
“Of course Harl. I promise.”

* * *

Ivy wasn’t sure what it was that made Harley suit those colours so well. For some reason the combination of red and black just looked so entirely _right_ on her, like green did on Ivy herself. Was it the blonde hair, or just because of the link to her costume? Come to think of it, Ivy couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Harley in her costume; it had certainly been before the Joker’s death. To her surprise, Ivy found that she missed it.

Oblivious to Ivy’s melancholy stare, Harley scrutinized her reflection carefully. She couldn’t help feeling a little bit disappointed that despite the casual-looking clothes - black cargo pants with a forgiving elastic waistband and a stretchy red t-shirt - she was still unmistakeably pregnant. Ah well, couldn’t have everything. At least they were comfortable and reassuringly non-frumpy.

Stripping back to her underwear, Harley folded the clothes and added them to the ‘buy’ pile along with nearly everything else she’d brought in. The only thing not in that pile were the pants that were clearly for someone that was either a good bit further along, or expecting triplets. Turning back to her reflection, Harley studied it again, glaring resentfully at her belly. The worst part was knowing that in a month or so, she wouldn’t even be able to see her toes. God, no wonder Ivy didn't want to have sex with her.

“I’m just gonna get fatter, huh Red?” she sighed, snapping the other woman out of her reverie.

“Harley! You’re _pregnant_ , not fat!” Ivy replied with a combination of disapproval and shock. “It’s a completely…”

“…natural process and I shouldn’t feel ashamed of myself because motherhood is a wonderful gift.” Harley finished for her. “But I’m still fat!”

Stepping up behind her, Ivy wrapped her arms around Harley’s waist, her hands resting gently over the curve of her belly as she looked over the blonde’s shoulder at their reflection in the mirror. “That’s because you’ve got a baby growing inside you. Not fat.”

“Yeah Red, but the baby’s in my stomach. That doesn’t explain my ass.” Harley grumbled as she leaned back against Ivy’s chest. “I hate this. It's gross. I'm gross.”

“You’re nearly halfway there Harl, it won’t be much longer.” Ivy said gently, lowering her head to kiss the side of Harley’s neck. “And you’re beautiful. Pregnant woman always are.”

"Wait, what?" Turning to face the other woman, Harley looked at her questioningly. "You don't think this-" gesturing to everything below her collarbone, "is gross?"

Taken aback by the question, Ivy shook her head. "Why would I think that?" she asked, her voice growing concerned. "Wait, did I do something that made you think that? Because if I did then I didn't-"

"Well if you don't think I'm gross why-" Belatedly realising that they were still in a department store changing room, Harley lowered her voice. "Why don't you want to have sex with me?"

"I..." Ivy wasn't used to being caught off-balance, and that question had certainly thrown her for a loop. "I... thought you didn't want to have sex with me!" She hoped that those words didn't sound as ridiculously defensive as they felt.

There was a short pause as they gazed at each other, both women now looking equally bewildered. "Uhhh... on what planet would I not want to have sex with you?" Harley said eventually. "I mean, you're Poi-" Remembering where they were, Harley coughed awkwardly. Calling Ivy 'Red' in public was one thing, but 'Poison Ivy' was probably a name to avoid. "You're not any different. I'm the one that's pregnant with someone else's baby. That's gotta be a turnoff, right?"

Taking a step forward, Ivy wrapped her arms around the other woman. "Harl, how many times do I have to tell you that doesn't matter to me. It's _your_ baby. That's all I care about. I just thought... maybe you didn't want to." Seeing Harley's sceptical look, Ivy continued quickly. "You're pregnant, and I have no idea what that does to someone's sex drive. Well okay, I have _some_ idea after reading about it but the takeaway is that it depends entirely on the mother and affects some women differently from others. And it's not like I have any experience there..."

"But apparently you did read a whole shitload about it," Harley finished for her, grinning ruefully. "Though you could have just, y'know, asked me."

"I didn't want you to feel pressured into anything," Ivy replied. "It's just that..." For a moment Ivy almost said 'I thought it was because of the clown' but decided that was a can of worms she didn't want to reopen right now. "You're pregnant," she said instead. "And I have no idea what that's like. If you don't want to, that's fine. If you need time, that's fine."

"Okay, but real talk here?" If anything, the look Harley was giving Ivy now was even more sultry than the one she'd had earlier when asking if she could just spend the rest of her pregnancy naked. "For the past month I have been so horny that I was worried I might need rotator cuff surgery if it went on much longer."

"Clearly we need to work on our communication then." Although Ivy was trying to sound serious, the effect was ruined by the laughter she was trying to hold back. "You'd think we'd be better at it by now."

Harley chuckled slightly in response, then the next thing Ivy knew was that her back had hit the cubicle wall with an audible thud as Harley pushed her back against it, kissing her deeply. It took several seconds for Ivy to collect herself enough in order to push Harley back, her eyes darting about in search of CCTV cameras.

“Harley! What are you doing, we can’t…” Realising how loudly she was speaking, Ivy quickly dropped her voice to an urgent whisper. “…do anything like this in a public place!”

Harley’s response was to lock the cubicle door with a quick twist of her wrist. “We're the only ones in here right now. No-one will notice Red, and didn't you literally just say that you still wanted to have sex with me?”

Ivy’s eyes widened as Harley unhooked her bra and let it drop. “Oh no Harl, we _certainly_ can’t do tha… Harley!” The blonde simply grinned mischievously at her, now completely naked.

“Can’t help it Red, I think it’s those crazy pregnant lady hormones." Harley giggled wickedly as she pinned Ivy back against the wall for another long kiss. “And I wasn't kidding when I said I've been horny for like a month…”

With a resigned sigh, Ivy shrugged off her jacket. “Okay, if we do this do you promise to go to antenatal classes with me to _learn_ about the crazy pregnant lady hormones?” Waiting for an answer, Ivy paused halfway through unbuttoning her shirt. “Well?”

“Ugh, those classes are stupid…” Harley grumbled, only to have a quick change of heart as Ivy began re-buttoning her shirt. “Okay, okay! I’ll go to the stupid classes, but you have to come too!”

“Then it’s a deal.” Ivy purred as she let her shirt drop to the ground, quickly followed by her bra. She managed to kick her shoes off just in time as Harley practically tore her pants off. Then, as Ivy slipped one hand between her legs Harley immediately froze - her eyes closing as her body stiffened, a low moan escaping from her throat. The moan became a high-pitched whimper as Ivy's fingers gently slid between swollen folds that were already slick and almost uncomfortably warm, her clit a hard knot pressing against the heel of Ivy's hand. Wow. Crazy pregnant lady hormones indeed. “And you’d better not be too loud,” Ivy added warningly.

Cracking one eye open with a smirk, Harley felt a shudder run through her body as Ivy’s fingers curled slightly. She hadn't even entered her yet but Harley was pretty sure she was on the verge of orgasm already. “I don’t remember _that_ being part of the deal, Red…”


	5. Chapter 5

It was strange. They’d been in their new house in the suburbs of one of the larger towns in Vermont for nearly a month but Harley found that she was missing the cabin - even though they had cable TV now and didn’t have to drive for half an hour to get to a decent grocery store. Maybe she just missed the utter peace and quiet of the cabin. But it was more likely that she was missing Ivy. Who was now working in a garden centre; a far cry from her pre-villain days of research and perfume commercials.

They didn't even need the money that badly. Harley knew she already had enough stashed in a Swiss bank account to keep them, comfortably, for at least a year and no doubt Ivy had the same. More, probably, because she would have been less likely to impulse buy things like a hand-carved Scandinavian sleigh designed to be pulled by hyenas. But Ivy had been adamant that they needed a steady income, because now there would be no more heists or robberies, or anything that might draw undue attention to themselves. Though that hadn't stopped her from planting a number of ordinary-looking shrubs and succulents around the garden and beside both the front and back doors, just in case they needed a distraction to cover an escape.

Harley was hoping quite fervently that if they did have to make an escape, it would be after the baby had arrived. At nearly twenty-three weeks pregnant Harley already didn't like the idea of running anywhere, and that situation wasn't going to improve any time in the next three months or so.

But despite missing the intimacy of the cabin, Harley still liked the house - a Cape Cod with a sizable garden and no stairs unless they wanted to put a loft conversion in later. At least Ivy had said something along those lines after she'd returned from the viewing. It had sounded a lot like realtor speak so Harley hadn't really been listening. There were no stairs she had to deal with just now, and that was the important thing.

Well, that was _an_ important thing. The most important was still making sure that Ivy had no reason to leave. Now she was some kind of glorified gardener doing work that could probably be described as ‘menial’ but she seemed perfectly happy about it. Harley found that worrying, even though she knew that spending most of each day with her hands in damp soil was something Ivy genuinely enjoyed.

Getting up from the sofa with a groan, Harley rubbed absently at the small of her back before heading through to the bedroom. It was almost impossible to find a comfortable sleeping position now. Attempting to nap on the sofa hadn’t made any breakthroughs, so it was back to the bed. Maybe it would have worked better if they’d had a bigger sofa, but Harley was hardly going to complain about that. In fact, she was hardly going to complain about _anything_. She had no right; so far Ivy had done everything from getting them out of Gotham to getting them this house without even one of her usual rants about how she always had to plan everything. If anything she seemed _happy_ with this level of domesticity.

Maybe this meant Ivy really would stay. Oh, she’d promised Harley that she would, but Harley still worried about it. Worried that one day she’d wake up alone, to find that Ivy had left her to go back to Gotham and pursue her supervillain career because she’d gotten sick of planting seedlings all day, or just really wanted to kill some corrupt CEOs. Because no matter what Ivy had said, this wasn’t her problem, and wasn’t her child... and Harley had never stayed with _her_ , had she? She’d always gone back to the Joker in the end.

As she awkwardly lowered herself onto the bed, Harley reflected that maybe she didn’t _deserve_ to have Ivy stay with her. And that thought just made her worry even more as she shuffled herself over to Ivy’s side of the bed, catching hold of her pillow and hugging it to her chest. It still held lingering traces of the scent of Ivy’s hair, and Harley inhaled it deeply, almost as if she was doing one of those stupid breathing exercises they taught at the stupid pregnancy classes.

Harley was sure she didn’t even need the stupid classes, since everything they’d taught her so far was stuff she’d already known through Ivy’s disturbingly thorough research into the subject. Harley was also sure that if she heard the name 'Ina May Gaskin' one more time then she would scream. But if going to the stupid classes was what Ivy wanted, then Harley would put up with them. Because she needed Ivy a hell of a lot more.

But she seriously did want to find this Ina May person and punch them for writing so much.

* * *

As Ivy stepped out of the hybrid car, she found herself pausing to take in the house and garden with an odd feeling of both contentment and subconscious anxiety. Even now she still had to forcibly remind herself that the Joker was dead; there was no need to worry about what would happen to Harley and her child if she went back to him. And surely if Batman had managed to trace them, he’d have made his move when they were in a remote cabin instead of suburbs. They were safe here, but somehow Ivy still couldn’t relax.

Maybe it was because she was happy here, happier than she’d ever been. Even when she’d been with Robert Carlyle - sort of - there had still been the nagging knowledge that no matter how much she pretended otherwise, it was still a sham. This was real. Perhaps that was why she couldn’t shake off the unwelcome certainty that it would not - _could_ not - last.

Taking a deep breath, Ivy banished those thoughts with the same determined philosophy she always did. If it couldn’t last then she’d damn well make the most of it while it did. And she’d fight with tooth and nail - or thorn and vine - to preserve it.

Ivy’s resolution lasted only until she opened the front door and stepped into the lounge to be greeted by a wall of silence. The TV was off, and there was no call from Harley as she shut the door behind herself. That was when the fear hit her like ice water; had Batman finally caught up with them? Was Harley already his prisoner?

Darting through into the kitchen, staying there only long enough to be sure that Harley wasn’t, Ivy turned and bolted up the stairs to their bedroom, cursing herself for not placing more defences around the house as she flung the door open…

…only for the sight of Harley curled up on the bed to hit her with a wave of relief so intense it was like a blow. Letting out the breath she’d been unconsciously holding in a long, shuddering exhalation, Ivy slowly moved across to the bed, taking care not to make too much noise.

Despite the racket Ivy had made running up the stairs, it seemed that Harley was still sound asleep with Ivy’s pillow clasped to her chest. Smiling gently as she got her breath back, Ivy leaned down to kiss the blonde’s forehead lightly. She considered moving Harley under the covers, but decided that would be sure to wake her up, and instead folded the other side of the blanket over her. Harley stirred slightly as Ivy’s hand traced along her cheek, smiling in her sleep but showing no sign of waking.

With a final adjustment of the blanket around Harley’s shoulders, Ivy turned and crept silently from the room, closing the door soundlessly as she went. 

* * *

The room was starting to get dark as Harley woke with a start, momentarily struggling against her restraints until she realised it was just the blanket. Raising her head sleepily, she realised that Ivy must have gotten home; Harley knew she could hardly have wrapped the blanket around herself in her sleep. The lingering traces of her dream were still tugging at the back of her mind, and she found herself nervously glancing around for anything that might be a farewell note before getting out of the bed.

Harley stumbled slightly as she got to her feet, the size of her expanding belly still throwing her off. Every time she got used to the extra weight she was carrying, it suddenly seemed to jump up by another few pounds. Typical. But at least it wasn’t as bad as the unmistakable waddle that was creeping into her walk.

As she opened the bedroom door, Harley could both smell and hear cooking in the kitchen, and in almost the same moment she realised she was ravenous. The extra weight she was carrying was forgotten as she bolted down the stairs with a surprising turn of speed.

Harley wasn’t sure which sight was the most welcome as she entered the kitchen; that of Ivy setting the table, or that of the food. She had to do a double take as she realised what Ivy had made for her, although there was Ivy’s usual mixed salad with obscure grains set on one side of the table, on the other there was a plate of unmistakably non-vegetarian burgers. The sound Harley made at the sight of them caused an amused smile to flicker across Ivy’s face.

“I noticed the McDonalds packaging in the trash Harl,” she said dryly. “If you wanted burgers that badly, you should have said."

“Well… you’re vegetarian, so I didn't wanna say anything,” Harley replied as she sat down, having to exert a considerable amount of willpower to stop herself from flying straight at the plate there and then. “And you always said that beef and dairy is ecologically devastating - and didn't we once kill some cattle baron guy?"

“Yes, because he owned ranches in Brazil that grazed said cattle on clearcut rainforest and funded illegal loggers to expand his operations." Although her eyes had narrowed at the memory, Ivy's expression softened as she met Harley's gaze. "At least here you can find meat that's been farmed locally and as sustainably as possible. Which is better than nothing," she added with a grimace. "Harley, as long as you’re pregnant I’ll make you whatever you want," Ivy assured her as they both sat down at the table. “It doesn't have to be vegetarian, and it's not like I have to eat it. Just handle it." The shudder Ivy made at those words was only partly exaggerated.

Though as Ivy watched the ferocity with which Harley attacked her meal, having to handle raw meat suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

* * *

Later they were curled together on the couch, Harley’s head resting comfortably in Ivy’s lap as they ostensibly watched some late-night talk show. It was really only providing background noise, both women more interested in each other than the TV and utterly content.

Harley smiled lazily as Ivy’s hand moved slowly through her hair in slow, gentle strokes. It was growing much thicker and faster now, the light brown roots becoming more noticeable by the day. Since peroxide was also on the seemingly endless list of ‘things that might harm the baby’, Harley hadn’t bleached her hair in months. Ivy didn't seem to care about it, so it wasn’t important.

As Ivy trailed her fingers through the roots of Harley’s hair she was surprised to find that they felt noticeably softer than the blonde area. She’d never really been able to get an idea of what Harley’s natural colour was until now.

“Harl?”

“Hmmm?” Harley didn’t raise her head, close to dozing off in Ivy’s lap and having no intention of failing to do so. It turned out that the couch was just fine for sleeping on if she had the right company.

“Why did you start bleaching your hair?" Ivy asked, fingertips brushing across the other woman's scalp. "Your natural colour isn't that far off from blonde anyway…”

“People underestimate you if you’re blonde”. Harley replied sleepily. “Especially if you act the part. An’ besides,” Harley continued as she tilted her head slightly to grin up at Ivy. “Blondes really do have more fun…”

“Then maybe I should try it…” Ivy suggested teasingly, flicking strands of red hair back over her shoulder as she spoke.

“You’re lucky I know you’re joking Red, otherwise I’d have to slap you.” Harley chuckled, comfortably settling her head back down on Ivy’s lap. “For a start I wouldn’t be able to call you Red any more, and secondly…”

Ivy never found out what the second reason was, because at that moment Harley broke off in mid-sentence with a sudden start, her whole body jerking as if she’d received a static shock.

“Harley? What’s wrong?” Ivy asked urgently, sitting up straight and taking hold of the other woman’s shoulders in case she had to help her up, horrible thoughts of premature labour or pre-eclampsia flitting through her mind. Risk of miscarriage dropped in the second trimester, but there were still plenty of things that could go wrong.

“…oh no,” Harley moaned softly, jerking again as she slid both hands over her stomach. Looking back up at Ivy, Harley saw the worry in her expression, and realised she’d better explain before it exploded into full-blown panic. “It’s okay Red, I’m just getting kicked.”

“Oh…” Relaxing, Ivy settled back into the sofa, a mismatched, painful welter of emotions surging through her. Longing and jealousy and resentment and protectiveness and love fought a pitched battle between themselves as she looked down at Harley through the mist that seemed to have suddenly appeared in her eyes.

There were several moments of silence; Harley turned back to Ivy as she opened her mouth to speak, but the look in the other woman’s eyes stopped her. For several seconds that seemed to stretch on for hours Harley held Ivy’s gaze, her blue eyes soft with understanding. Wordlessly, she took both of Ivy’s hands and placed them over her stomach below her navel, waiting for the inevitable.

As Harley jumped again, Ivy found herself smiling despite the tears that were slowly trickling from her eyes.

* * *

“Yeah, I’ve been feeling movement for the last couple of weeks, but that was the first time I got kicked… guess the kid’s settled down again now.”

They were curled together on their bed, Harley in her underwear as Ivy stroked her belly gently with one hand, her other arm around Harley’s shoulders as the blonde snuggled against her.

“You never said anything…” Ivy’s voice was faintly reproachful, and Harley could hear the hurt underneath.

“I’m sorry Red… I didn’t want to worry you.” she replied, truthfully. “You’ve been busy with the moving, and then your new job," A faint note of anxiety began to creep into Harley's voice as she continued, starting to sound almost guilty. "And it’s not like anything was _wrong_ , and I wasn’t even sure that it was definitely the baby moving…”

As Harley’s explanation grew closer to hysteria, Ivy quickly interrupted her. “It’s okay Harl, I’m not angry. And it’s your baby so…”

“Don’t say that!” The fear in Harley’s voice was now plainly audible as she pulled away from the other woman, her eyes wide and frightened. Seeing the shock on Ivy’s face, she continued quickly, her words stumbling out in a confused rush. “I mean it _is_ my baby, but it’ll really be ours because we're in this together like you said! Well okay, it’s _not_ ours, but… but… oh god don’t leave me!”

And suddenly Harley was weeping into Ivy’s chest with huge, racking sobs, clinging to the other woman’s shoulders as if terrified that she would leave that very moment. Stunned, Ivy could only sit there for several moments as Harley wept, unsure of what to do or say. She couldn’t think of anything she might have done to give Harley the idea she was going to leave - Ivy had absolutely no intention of leaving and if the blonde hadn't been completely and genuinely distraught then Ivy would have reacted angrily to the very idea.

But this wasn’t just Harley being, well, _Harley_. Ivy doubted that her insecurities were helped any by her pregnancy. And with that thought in mind, Ivy found it surprisingly easy to let go of her anger at the almost-accusation, and instead folded her arms around Harley’s shuddering shoulders and rocked her gently against her body. 

For several minutes that felt like hours, the only sound in the room was Harley’s sobbing. Gradually calming, Harley moved back slightly, her eyes fixed firmly on the mattress beneath them as embarrassment and humiliation surged through her.

“I’m… I’m sorry Red,” she began hesitantly, the words catching in her throat. “I just worry sometimes… I know it’s stupid...” Harley’s voice tailed off as she felt a lump rise in her throat, threatening to send her back into tears.

“Oh, Harley…” Taking the blonde’s head between both hands, Ivy tenderly raised it to make Harley look at her. “I love you. Why would I leave you?”

Tearing her eyes away from Ivy's too-forgiving green gaze, Harley shuddered as she forced herself to spit the words out like poison. “Because I always left you, Red! Always!” Unable to stop herself, Harley was sobbing once more. “You’ve got no reason to stay with me, this isn’t your baby, and I never stayed with you!”

And as Harley reluctantly met her eyes again, Ivy saw all the pain she’d felt every morning where she’d woken up to find herself alone reflected there. She’d often wondered, bitterly, furiously, whether Harley had ever felt any remorse for repeatedly abandoning Ivy for the man she was obsessed with. Or even cared about it. And now Ivy had her answer.

“Harley, I love you. With all my heart.” Ivy replied eventually, her voice soft and sincere as she gently wiped the tears from Harley’s eyes. “That’s in the past now. All of it. We’re not in Gotham any more; we came here to start over. All three of us,” Ivy added, laying one hand on Harley’s belly as she kissed her lightly on the forehead.

Still sniffling a little, Harley managed a shaky smile. “I’m sorry Red… deep down I know you wouldn’t leave me… but I just can’t help worrying. Guess it’s the crazy pregnant lady hormones again, huh? Only less fun this time.”

Ivy’s response was to pull the blonde close against herself once more, and this time Harley snuggled as close against her as she could with her swollen stomach between them, laying her head on Ivy’s shoulder and sighing into her red hair, a sound of mixed contentment and resignation.

“Guess I should count myself lucky that you still put up with me after all these years…” Harley murmured softly. “And that you never went and found somebody else…”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else Harley,” Ivy replied softly, settling her cheek against the top of the other woman's head. “And you’ve put up with me too, and I know that isn’t always easy…”

“I know, but I never had to share you with someone else…” Harley’s voice trailed off; even now it was still difficult to think of her relationship with the Joker. If he’d still been alive, Harley knew that there was a good chance that she wouldn’t be here now - she’d be with him. For the first time in her life, she found that thought to be distressing. What would he have done when he’d found out she was pregnant? Maybe it was because she'd been away from him for so long, but Harley couldn't imagine that he'd be delighted. And if she was honest with herself, Harley knew that by now she’d either have lost the baby or her life.

“Well, now we’re together.” Ivy’s voice was low and soothing; she could guess the kind of thoughts that were running through Harley’s head right now, and knew that Harley would have to come to terms with them on her own. All Ivy could do was give her the love and support she needed. “And that’s all that matters to me.”

There was silence for a few moments; Harley was lost in her thoughts and Ivy said no more, knowing that the physical contact would help her better than words could right now. Eventually, Harley sighed again and raised her head from Ivy’s shoulder to look at her with unusual intensity.

“Ivy… I know what you’ll say to this, but I really need to hear it so please don’t be mad…” Harley began, somewhat awkwardly. “You… you really do want to spend the rest of your life with me, don’t you? I mean… this isn’t just a now thing, or even a long-term thing… it’s a ‘til death do us part’ thing, right?”

“Yes.” Ivy replied without hesitation, taking both of Harley’s hands and holding them tightly in her own. “I love you Harley. There’s nothing I want more than for us to spend the rest of our lives together. Is this what you want?”

Wordlessly, Harley nodded, not trusting herself to speak in case she ended up in tears, again. Ivy understood, and with a smile that suggested that Harley wasn’t the only one close to tears, she kissed each of Harley’s hands, then clasped them to her chest, over her heart.

“Harley.” Ivy’s voice shook slightly as she spoke and Harley could feel her hands trembling around her own. “If this is what you really want - if _us_ is what you really want..." Again, Harley nodded wordlessly in response, even more emphatically this time. Ivy looked at her for a moment, dimly wondering how she was able to take on Batman or the Joker without flinching, but had to screw up all of her courage for her next words. “Then marry me.”

Harley stared at her. It was the only response her brain could immediately come up with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, same-sex marriage is literally the only reason I had Harley and Ivy move to Vermont, because at the time I first wrote this it was the only US state to have the same rights for gay couples as straight ones. If I'd wrote this now they'd probably be in Oregon. (insert dying of dysentery joke here) ETA: Actually I'm getting Oregon mixed up with Washington because I fail at US geography, it would be Washington. Also on the border with Canada, also heavily forested, and about as far from Gotham as you can get on the continental US.


	6. Chapter 6

There was a long, shocked silence as Harley’s brain tried to process what Ivy had just said, unable to grasp either the concept or Ivy’s sincerity. Marriage? Harley couldn’t even begin to imagine why _anyone_ would be prepared to make that kind of commitment to her. Yes, Ivy loved her, Harley knew that, but she also knew that she was pregnant with the Joker’s child and that maybe Ivy would feel differently once it was born. Maybe she’d want someone else.

Harley had wanted Ivy to tell her that she’d stay with her, but she’d also envisioned that maybe Ivy would find someone else and it would be sorta like their relationship before Mistah J had been killed. Only this time with Harley being the one who kept getting pushed aside. Harley wouldn’t have complained as long as Ivy still came back to her. It would have been all she deserved. Harley was more than happy just to settle for Ivy being part of her life, letting her drift in her orbit while working on her own plans. Like the Joker had done, only Ivy wasn't likely to turn on her if plans went south. Harley didn't expect outright devotion, she'd made do with tolerance for long enough.

“…you’re not serious…” Those were the first words Harley managed to say in response, and the moment they were spoken she wished she’d chosen them better.

“Completely serious Harley.” Ivy replied quietly, her voice quivering with emotion. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Marry me.”

Ivy really meant it. Harley could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes. She looked away, unable to meet Ivy’s intense gaze as all the old worries and insecurities came surging back. She couldn’t marry Ivy, because she couldn’t let Ivy ruin her own life like that. Couldn’t let Ivy tie herself down to someone who didn’t deserve her and a child that wasn’t hers. Couldn’t let Ivy do something she’d regret for the rest of her days - because it would mean giving up her environmental crusade. The criminal parts of it anyway. And after a few years of not destroying logging camps or sabotaging big business, maybe Ivy would regret it. Harley already had enough guilt to live with, she didn't want to add that to the pile.

“I… I can’t Red…” Harley whispered brokenly as she pulled her hands out of Ivy's grasp, knowing full well what she was turning away. Knowing that Ivy would have taken her as she was, damaged goods or not. Knowing that, after the way she’d treated their relationship, the worst thing she could do to Ivy was to chain them together permanently.

It was strange considering that if the Joker had ever popped the question - and looking back on it now Harley found it hard to believe that she'd ever thought that was possible - she would have accepted before he'd even finished asking. Because that would have meant he really loved her, and the little voice that was all that was left of Harleen could finally shut up. It would have meant she wasn't delusional. It would have meant she had been right to throw Harleen away to begin with. But of course, it never happened. And Harley didn't need a proposal to know that Ivy loved her, that was something she'd never doubted. Because when Ivy had taken other lovers, she'd only ever wanted to use them and throw them aside. Harley was the only one she'd ever asked to stay.

“You can’t? Why?” Ivy had been afraid of this; afraid that Harley would still have some stupid dedication to the memory of the clown and would still let him control her life from beyond the grave. Afraid that it meant that Harley would never truly be able to start over, he’d always be hanging over her like a shadow. Poisoning her future like organochlorides contaminating soil.

“Because it’s not fair.” Harley could feel an ominous prickling at the corners of her barely-dry eyes, and some detached part of her mind wondered just how much of her pregnancy she was going to spend in tears. “I… I can’t…” Her hands bunched in the sheets beneath them, twisting the fabric between her fingers nervously.

“Harley. The Joker is _dead_." Ivy's voice shook from anger, but it wasn't aimed at the other woman. The target was beyond her reach, and there was nothing she could do to him now beyond defiling his grave. That didn't help. "You need to move on, it’s not fair on _you_ to still be forcing yourself to live your life the way he’d want it, just because he isn’t here…”

Ivy was working herself up into what would no doubt be one of her longer tirades, but abruptly stopped as she saw the look in Harley’s eyes. Not angry, not resentful, not denial, not anything that Ivy had ever seen there when making similar rants. Instead the blonde looked completely bewildered.

“…I didn’t mean the Joker, Red… I meant that it wasn’t fair on _you_ …” Harley murmured. After all, it didn't really matter what Mistah J thought any more. And that was for the best - since his idea of family had involved torturing a kid until their mind broke into pieces that he could rearrange as he saw fit. What would he have done to the baby if it didn't measure up to his standards? Hell, what would he have done if it was a _girl_? All that mattered to Harley now was the baby and her relationship with Ivy. Even knowing that the Joker was dead didn't hurt any more. It meant he'd never be able to harm her or anyone she cared about.

“Not fair on _me_?” Now it was Ivy’s turn for bewilderment - how could Harley possibly think this was unfair for her? “Harley, I _want_ to be with you. There’s nothing unfair about it, why on earth would you ever think that? And don’t say that it’s because you’re pregnant. You know that doesn’t matter to me.”

“…you deserve better than me…” Harley still wouldn’t meet Ivy’s gaze, trying hard to hold back her tears. “And you don’t deserve to be saddled with a kid that’s not yours…”

“Harleen Quinzel. Look at me. Now.” Ivy ordered sternly, her heart twisting painfully as she saw the utter dejection and hopelessness in the blonde’s eyes. She hadn’t thought that Harley actually believed what she was saying, or that the Joker had managed to crush so much of her self-esteem. Carefully reaching out with both hands, as if Harley was a wild animal with its leg in a gin trap, Ivy laid them over Harley's clenched fists as she continued to speak in a low, impassioned voice. “I love you. I would die for you. I don’t deserve better, because there _isn’t_ a 'better' for me. You’re the one I want. The only one I've ever truly wanted.”

Feeling Harley's hands uncurl, Ivy gently took hold of them again. "You know me better than anyone," she continued. "Because no matter how much I tried to push you away, you were just determined to be my friend. And I never thought I'd need a human friend but when you weren't there I... I used to think I wasn't getting enough sunlight or something. Then I realised I missed you. And I hated it, because I thought that the worst thing I could possibly do was care about a human because if I cared about one human, that would mean that maybe the human race is redeemable after all. Everything had been so comfortably black and white until then." Ivy gave a sardonic chuckle at that, then sighed.

"I know I'm... not great about discussing my feelings, but I need you to believe I'm serious, Harley." Ivy gave her hands a slight squeeze as she spoke. Harley's eyes were wide and wondering, her only response a silent nod as Ivy went on. "Maybe things aren't black and white any more, but they are better. Brighter. Because of you. I might have done some terrible things - well, depending on your perspective - but I think you stopped me from turning into a complete monster. And then I realised I was in love with you. I didn't think I could still feel love in that way. But I could. Because of you. Do you know that, to begin with, whenever you went back to the Joker I told myself I was glad? Because if you stayed with him then maybe these feelings would go away. But they didn't. _You_ didn't. And sometimes I told myself I hated you for it. That I hated you for leaving me. But I couldn't stop loving you. And having a life here with you is worth giving up everything else for. Because I didn't know what being happy really was until I met you."

Shaken by Ivy’s words, Harley could barely respond, unable to believe that she could mean this much to someone. Sure, she'd used to fantasise about the Joker whispering similar words to her, but even in the depths of obsession Harley had known it was just that - a fantasy. A pretty castle in the sand that she kept rebuilding even while the tide swirled around her ankles. And when she was left with nothing, why, she could just build it again. Ivy wasn't just saying the words, she meant them. This wasn't a sand castle, this was brick and mortar. And Harley remembered how she’d found Ivy back in Gotham - the state Ivy had been in when she’d thought she was dead. Despite everything, all the running back to the Joker, all the heartache Harley had caused her, Ivy loved her all the same. Maybe this would work after all, but there was still…

“…and the baby?” Harley’s voice was barely more than a whisper as she pulled one hand free and laid it on her rounded stomach protectively.

“I love the baby too Harley.” With a gentle smile, Ivy covered Harley’s outspread hand with her own, their fingers interlacing. “It's your baby, that's all that matters. And I will love any child of yours as if it was my own. It'll be our baby. We’ll be a family. And that's something I know I want," she added with a lopsided smile. "I had it for a while with Robert Carlyle, but that was never real and I knew it. This is. It's not just a front - we both gave up everything in Gotham to get this far. And I don't regret it one bit. Marry me.”

Blinking her tears away, Harley searched Ivy’s face and eyes for any trace of doubt or unease. There was none, only the same intense sincerity that Harley had seen there earlier. Taking Ivy’s hand from her stomach, Harley held it to her face, realising as she did that Ivy was trembling almost as much as she was herself.

“Yes.” Harley murmured, her voice choked by the emotions she could barely hold in check. “Yes!” she repeated, louder this time as the ramifications fully sank in. Ivy wanted to marry her, to stay with her, to love her. And only her; there would be no sharing and no more worrying about Ivy leaving her. They really would be a family.

As Harley threw herself forward into Ivy’s arms, they kissed fiercely, their arms wrapping around each other with an almost savage grip. Pulling back after a few moments as the pressure on her belly started to get uncomfortable, Harley shuffled up onto her knees and propped herself up on both arms. Beneath her, Ivy raised herself into a half-sitting position and moved forward to continue the kiss, then hesitated. "I, uh, don't actually have a ring or anything," she admitted, celadon skin deepening to jade as she blushed. "I wasn't exactly planning to propose tonight - but that doesn't mean I'm not serious! I'll - mpht!"

Dropping her upper body down onto her elbows, effectively pinning Ivy underneath her, Harley silenced her with another kiss. "Screw the damn ring," she murmured breathlessly in the other woman's ear once their lips parted. "If I'm getting you then I don't need anything else." There was a brief pause, then Harley snorted with helpless laughter. "Maybe we should wait until after I have the baby though, or it's gonna look like one weird shotgun wedding."

"I thought that would have appealed to you," Ivy replied, grinning. "Just imagine the wedding photos. Besides, once the leaves start turning in a couple of months the whole state will be swarming with tourists. We'd never be able to book a venue."

Harley's head slumped down onto Ivy's chest as she shook with laughter. It took a couple of minutes for her to get her giggling under control, and a further one before she could raise her head. "A venue huh? Who's on the guest list?"

"Nobody of course," Ivy said with a faux-dismissive sniff. "But Harleen Quinzel, I'll be damned if we're not going to have a proper ceremony. We're not savages."

"Weird shotgun wedding it is then," Harley nodded with straight-faced sincerity that lasted all of five seconds before she started to giggle again. "But we can keep on living in sin till then, right?"

"Naturally." Wrapping her arms around Harley's shoulders, Ivy hooked one leg around her hips and rolled both of them onto their sides. "Do you want to sit on the bed, or the chair?"


	7. Chapter 7

If the celebrant thought it was strange to be conducting a wedding ceremony for two women - one clearly pregnant - with no guests or family present, they didn't show it. The venue Harley and Ivy had picked - a mountaintop lodge in the Green Mountain National Forest - even specialised in what it referred to as 'elopement weddings' that could be set up at short notice and only for the couple being wed. And being in Vermont, it had been hosting same-sex unions for a long time. If nobody found it odd, that meant it would pass unnoticed which was exactly what they both wanted. Even if it was extremely unlikely that Batman would try to find them by checking marriage records.

The two of them were standing beneath a large garden arch covered with climbing roses, which had been placed on a high ridge overlooking the main building with a fantastic view of the lake and forested mountains beyond. From the empty benches lined up on the lawn on the other side it was obvious that this particular site was normally for larger ceremonies, but as it hadn't been booked the lodge was happy to let them use it. Ivy had loved it from the moment she'd seen it, and Harley was more than happy to go along with it. She wouldn't have cared if they'd had the ceremony in the car park - at least that wouldn't have involved as many stairs.

Ivy was only half listening to the words of the civil ceremony, focusing more on fixing this moment in her memory as she held Harley's hands in both of hers, surrounded by the scent of late summer roses and lavender and bathed in afternoon sunlight. Despite everything she still had a tiny, jagged shard of paranoia lodged in the back of her mind that was convinced that things would still manage to go wrong. Harley would decide she didn't want this after all, or Batman would arrive to take them both to Arkham, or some kind of cataclysm would split the earth itself beneath their feet... but all she could see was Harley's face, her blue eyes soft and warm without even the slightest trace of reluctance or anxiety.

It was still strange seeing her with such short hair. Ivy had gotten used to seeing Harley's original light brown hair colour, but Harley had insisted that she didn't want half blonde, half brown hair for her wedding and instead had opted for a pixie cut that had removed all traces of peroxide, pointing out that it also made her less recognisable. But she had still argued when Ivy had decided that it would be a good idea to change her own hair as well - insisting that since Ivy was ensuring that her skin was a normal colour everywhere except their bedroom when the curtains were closed, then her hair could stay. Ivy had eventually agreed not to dye it black as she'd originally intended, but instead had cut it back to just below her jawline. It was surprising how different it made her look.

In keeping with the rest of the wedding, their dresses were hardly traditional either. They hadn't wanted to spend either the time or the money on arranging proper wedding dresses - this ceremony was only for themselves and they didn't need to impress each other. Harley was wearing an A-line dress in crimson satin, with an illusion neckline in gauzy, crystal-speckled lace that also formed the sleeves. The layers of satin and iridescent organza in the long pleated skirt did make an attempt to conceal her pregnancy, but it only worked from a distance and at the right angle. Ivy had wondered if her own dress - a figure-hugging gown in deep phthalo green velvet - was too plain in comparison, but judging by Harley's reaction it was just fine. Probably because of the plunging neckline and the fact that the skirt was slit to the thigh on both sides.

"June Woods." For a moment Ivy didn't register that the celebrant was talking to her, still lost in Harley's eyes. With a slight start, she turned her head to look at them - a soft-spoken middle-aged man dressed in a neat suit of light gray. He didn't seem to be at all bothered by her abstraction, from his faint smile it appeared that this wasn't something that surprised him. "Would you like to read your vows?"

Ivy nodded, then realised that she'd completely forgotten them. Despite reading them several times a day for the past fortnight. Had she even thought to bring a copy with her? The dress didn't have pockets! Trying to fight down her rising panic, Ivy took a deep breath and closed her eyes... and the words bubbled up from her memory, printed in her own handwriting on the small card that was probably in her purse back in the lodge. Taking another deep breath, Ivy opened her eyes to look back at Harley, hoping that the words would stay.

"I, June Woods, do take thee, Hannah Rosenberg, to be my lawful wedded wife." Ivy could hear the tremble in her voice but tried to ignore it, it was hard enough to stop it from rising in pitch. "To be loving, faithful and loyal to thee in living our married life together." She could see a telltale shimmer in Harley's eyes at her words and felt her own starting to sting. Looking back towards the celebrant, Ivy took one of the rings that lay on the small tray he was holding. They were identical gold bands with a sculpted ivy leaf on either side of a rhombus cut ruby. Harley had been happy with just the leaves, but Ivy had insisted that the rings had to include elements for both of them - this was a partnership after all.

"I give you this ring as a symbol of our love," Ivy said as she turned back to Harley, sliding the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand. Despite her best efforts, her voice cracked slightly as she continued. "All that I am I give to you. All that I have I share with you. I promise to love you, to be faithful and loyal, in good times and bad." Ivy could no longer be sure if Harley was crying or not - her own vision was blurry and wavering. "May this ring remind you always of the words we have spoken today."

"Hannah Rosenberg." Through the haze, Ivy could just make out Harley turning to look at the celebrant as she had done. "Would you like to read your vows?" Blinking hard to clear her vision, Ivy felt tears streak down her cheeks - no doubt ruining her makeup - but ignored them as Harley came back into focus. The other woman had turned back towards her and squeezed her hands gently. To Ivy's surprise - and no small embarrassment - while Harley's eyes were still shimmering, she wasn't crying. She also didn't need to stop and think about what she was going to say either, her voice clear and certain.

"I, Hannah Rosenberg, do take thee, June Woods, to be my lawful wedded wife." If anything, Harley looked even less tearful as she continued, her smile as bright as the sun. The vows were identical to Ivy's, and despite the small, treacherous voice in her mind whispering that she'd choke on the words, that she'd suddenly announce she couldn't go through with it after all and leave, Harley's words never wavered, her blue gaze warm and serene. Her hands were steady as she took the remaining ring and slid it on to Ivy's finger.

"All that I am I give to you." Ivy had to blink away more tears as Harley spoke, but the other woman's eyes were dry now, looking into hers with an intensity that assured Ivy that she meant every word. "All that I have I share with you. I promise to love you, to be faithful and loyal, in good times and bad. May this ring remind you always of the words we have spoken today." There was a short pause as the two of them looked at each other, hands held so tightly it was almost painful, both of them feeling the other's ring pressing into their palm.

"I now pronounce you wives," the celebrant said, smiling gently. "You may kiss."

Surprisingly, the kiss itself wasn't particularly long or deep. It was the embrace that lasted, both of them clinging tightly to each other - Ivy's fingers combing through Harley's short hair, Harley's hands clutching at her back. Ivy slowly dropped her arms to circle Harley's waist instead, feeling her swollen belly pressed against her midsection as Harley nuzzled her head into the space between her neck and shoulder. They stood like that for several minutes as the celebrant politely withdrew, neither of them wanting to be the first to break the embrace.

"We actually did that," Harley murmured into Ivy's ear, her voice bubbling with barely-suppressed laughter. "Holy shit, we're married." As she said that, Harley started giggling helplessly, barely managing to sputter out words between chuckles "Oh jeez... that's probably not... the most romantic thing to say... to start our marriage."

"No, but it would look good as a caption under the wedding photo," Ivy replied with a perfectly straight face, sending Harley off into another fit of giggles. Glancing towards the empty benches, Ivy saw the photographer - who'd been unobtrusively taking pictures during the ceremony - checking her camera. Judging by the look on her face, she was happy with the results.

Finally managing to get her laughter under control, Harley sighed happily as she tilted her head to look up at the other woman. "I love you," she said quietly, then started slightly as she felt a kick. From the look in Ivy's - her wife's - eyes, Harley could see that she'd felt it too. "I'm gonna say that means they agree."

Ivy's answering smile was getting dangerously close to weepy again. "I love you, too." Her voice was also balancing precariously on the edge of cracking, but steadied as Ivy swallowed hard. "Both of you." Harley was pretty sure that while Ivy had given her similar looks before - tender, loving, protective - she'd never seen all three at the same time. Or with this level of intensity. Harley was also pretty sure that if they didn't get back to the lodge pretty soon, they'd be consummating their marriage in one of the rhododendron bushes. Those things did look like they'd provide good cover after all...

* * *

Despite her current condition, Harley still led the way up the wooden steps to the small cabin perched on the mountainside, tugging at Ivy's hand insistently. Although the main lodge building had plenty of accommodation available, the resort also offered secluded log cabins for guests who wanted a little more privacy. And while this one was the smallest, it was also the most remote. Even with the curtains open there would be very little chance of anyone seeing Ivy with her natural skin colour.

It was bad enough that they had to get married under false names, Harley had no intention of letting her wife spend their wedding night with a fake complexion too.

As they reached the top of the steps, Harley paused to catch her breath but then held it instead as she saw the view. The cabin was surrounded by a deck on three sides, but it arced out in a wide semicircle at the front to overhang the steep slope of the cliffside and give them a perfect view of the lake and mountains. Still holding Ivy's hand, Harley moved over to the wooden guard rail which had been laced with gently twinkling firefly lights. For several moments there was silence as both women gazed out at the landscape.

The sun was low, but hadn't quite set, still peeking over the mountains to the north. But it was the sky that took Harley's breath away - gold along the mountains then darkening to peach and coral and smoky purple before fading into deep midnight blue speckled with stars brighter than diamonds, all of it mirrored in the lake below. Any stylist who could pull off an ombre like that would make a fortune.

"You know," Harley began, her voice soft with wonder. "I only ever see things like this when I'm with you. And then I get why you want to protect it."

Beside her, Ivy chuckled quietly, letting go of Harley's hand so that she could wrap her arm around her waist instead. "I just wish it was that easy for other people to get it as well," she sighed, though she was still smiling as Harley settled her head against her shoulder. Together, they watched the sun slowly sink below the mountains, more and more stars illuminating the sky as it grew darker.

"I don't think I've ever seen so many stars," Harley murmured, turning in a slow circle as she looked upwards. The moon was a bright silver-white crescent behind the cabin, somehow looking cleaner than it ever had in Gotham. "Would you be mad if I tried to pick you up to carry you over the threshold?" she asked with an impish grin.

"Yes." Ivy's reply was unequivocal. "Very much so, since you're six months pregnant. Which also means I don't think I can lift you either."

"Awww, spoilsport." Harley feigned a sulky pout. "Guess I'll just have to race ya then." Without waiting for a response, Harley darted for the door with a turn of speed that surprised both of them.

Neither of them saw much of the cabin's interior. Harley caught a glimpse of a large stone fireplace but rather than look around she turned to catch Ivy in her arms as she came through the door behind her. Spinning the other woman against the wall, Harley pinned her there as she pressed forwards to kiss her deeply. She heard Ivy gasp sharply as her thigh pressed between her legs, but resisted the urge to replace her thigh with her hand. For now.

"Gotta get you out of that dress first," Harley growled in her wife's ear. "Looks so good on you. Don't wanna ruin it." She fumbled for the hidden zip at the back of Ivy's dress, grunting in frustration as the slender metal tab slipped through her fingers. Harley was pretty sure that her hands hadn't been sweaty a moment ago.

With an obvious reluctance, Ivy slid out from between the wall and Harley's body. "Let me lock the door first," she muttered breathlessly. "And draw the curtains."

Harley's hands bunched in the layered fabric of her skirt as she watched the other woman lock and bolt the front door, then quickly move around the main room of the cabin to close every set of curtains. She had no idea how Ivy could move so fast in a dress that tight. "I'll check the bedroom," Harley offered, fully intending to be naked by the time Ivy got there.

Both curtains and shades were already closed in the bedroom - Harley had a vague memory of doing that earlier with this exact situation in mind. Turning the tri-light beside the bed to its lowest setting, Harley unhooked the clasp at the back of her neck then twisted an arm around to grab the zip - thankfully not one of those fiddly thin ones - and unfastened it. The dress had to come off as it had went on - over her head - and despite some ominous tearing noises as she yanked it almost inside out, it went more or less smoothly. Sitting on the bed to take her shoes off and breathing a sigh of relief as she did, Harley fell back against the smooth sheets to lie spreadeagled across the mattress.

"You really shouldn't lie on your back right now, Harl." Ivy's voice drifted from the doorway, and Harley looked up to see that the other woman had managed to divest herself of her own dress and was now wearing only a brief, lacy demi bra and matching panties in dark green.

Harley was particularly jealous of the bra. She was stuck with maternity bras for the foreseeable future.

Pushing herself up into a semi-sitting position, Harley leaned back against the pillows as Ivy closed the door and stalked towards her. Even in the dim light, Harley could see the first flushes of green pigment spreading across the other woman's face and body. Ivy was good at controlling her skin colour - had gotten better at it since she had to do it regularly now - and only reverted to green when she was asleep... or aroused. And Harley reflected that if Ivy was still aroused by the sight of her when she was six months pregnant and wearing decidedly unsexy lingerie, that was just one more reason why this had been the best decision of her life.

Watching Ivy divest herself of both bra and panties with blatant flourishes, Harley took a deep breath as her wife climbed on to the end of the bed and prowled up to where she was sitting. She pressed her thighs together hard in an attempt to alleviate some of the building pressure there but the attempt was immediately foiled as Ivy leaned down to plant a soft kiss on the curve of her stomach just below the navel. As she continued her slow crawl forwards, Harley whined softly as she felt the other woman's breasts press against her, her nipples leaving trails of fire as they dragged across her skin.

Instinctively, Harley thrust her hips upwards as Ivy moved over her, unsuccessfully trying to grind against her as her swollen belly got in the way. Then the other woman was straddling her, gazing down at her with hooded, lust-filled eyes as she lowered her head to kiss her. Harley melted into it, wrapping her arms around Ivy's neck only for them to tighten abruptly as a green thigh parted her legs, finally giving her something to grind against. The sound Harley made in response was a shuddering gasp that sounded almost like a sob.

Harley had not thought that the first orgasm of her married life would be from thrusting herself against Ivy's knee while still wearing panties, but it wasn't like it was going to be the last. Shivering as she went limp, Harley took a second to recover, then wrapped both legs around Ivy's waist and flipped their positions with a flex of her shoulder and hip.

"You said I shouldn't be on my back," Harley uttered, with a husky laugh at Ivy's look of surprise. Before the other woman could reply, Harley had shuffled downwards to kiss the space between her breasts, tasting sweat. Ivy's sweat was different, more sweet than salty with that same indefinable 'green' scent that Harley associated with her. As she turned her attention and mouth to one of her breasts, Harley felt one of Ivy's hands sink into her short hair as she moaned. Fingernails dragged against Harley's scalp as she ran her tongue around the hard nipple and Ivy's next groan was both louder and deeper as Harley's mouth closed on it, sucking hard.

"Gaia, Harley, I always forget how go-" Ivy's voice faded into a long 'oooooooo' as the other woman's hand slid teasingly down her belly and between her legs. The sound hiked into a high-pitched squeak as Harley switched her mouth to her other breast while agile fingers slid into her folds, the knuckle of her thumb rolling small circles around her clit.

Pushing herself up on her free arm, Harley grinned at the sight of her wife - Ivy's head was tipped back as she panted, the skin of her upper chest and face starting to flush an intense jade green. Both of them tended to be vocal during sex, but while that usually took the form of mixed curses and endearments for Harley, Ivy leaned more towards incomprehensible sounds that ranged from deep-throated, wolfish growls to shrill gasps and whines. As far as Harley was concerned, that was adorable.

"You're so wet," Harley's words were a low rumble as she slowly worked her way downwards, belly and breasts dragging across Ivy's slender body. Maybe it was a good thing she was wearing a maternity bra after all, Harley could feel her nipples straining against the thick fabric and if they'd actually made contact with Ivy's quivering skin then she was pretty sure that she'd have immediately lost focus. "Hope it didn't get through to the dress or that is gonna be hard to explain to the dry cleaner..." Ivy made a noise that suggested she couldn't care less about the dress, and Harley chuckled softly as she planted a kiss on her navel, feeling her wife's body jerk as she teased it with a swipe of her tongue.

Harley groaned herself as she lowered her mouth to Ivy's center, the musky scent driving her wild even before her tongue slipped into her slit to tease the sensitive nub at the apex. If she hadn't needed her free arm to keep pressure off the bulge at her belly, Harley would absolutely have been touching herself as she slid two fingers into Ivy's heat. Usually she did. She felt the other woman's hips buck violently beneath her as she uttered a keening wail that would have made anyone else think she was in pain. Harley knew better, would have known even if she couldn't feel the warm pulse of Ivy's inner walls tightening around her fingers as she crooked them expertly with each thust.

It was over disappointingly quickly - as soon as Harley's tongue swirled around the stiff pearl of her wife's clit she felt the muscles inside clamp down hard on her fingers. This time Ivy's wail was guttural - an animal sound as both of her hands clutched at Harley's head like a flytrap. Gently withdrawing her hand, Harley propped herself up to regard the other woman with a self-satisfied grin. Ivy was a shuddering mess, sweat dappling her upper body, her makeup smudged and smeared, her hair a dishevelled tangle. Harley guessed that she was probably the only person who knew that Ivy liked to pull at her own hair shortly before orgasm.

"Well, that's us legally married now," Harley told her with smug matter-of-factness. "So if you wanna back out, better lawyer up, Red."

The breathless sound Ivy made in response might have been a laugh. Slowly raising herself up onto her elbows, she gave Harley a look that immediately made the warm glow in her nethers reignite into raging heat. "Just let me get my breath back," she panted. "Then I am going to fuck you like I just got out of Arkham."

"Good, I got time to go get that alcohol-free prosecco from the fridge then," Harley replied, fumbling with the clasp of her bra. "Gotta stay hydrated."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that I've changed the title of this fic from 'Baker Street' to 'Red & Green', mostly because I was listening to Maddy Prior while working on the first part of this chapter and went "wait their wedding dresses are red and green and also that makes a better title than Baker Street". Also this might stop me from doing godawful vocal renditions of the saxophone riff from Baker Street every time I open the file. At least I never used ''74/'75' as a title because while that is one of my favourite Harlivy related songs, that title makes even less sense than Baker Street did.
> 
> Also I am never writing anything where I have to describe dresses ever again. Do not want.


	8. Chapter 8

By the middle of her twenty-eighth week, Harley had stopped worrying about childbirth and started wishing her due date was closer. Not only did it seem like the baby had inherited her hyperactivity - and was prone to hiccups - but she really was starting to walk like Ozzie. The increasing belly size was bad enough, but the waddle was embarrassing.

Then again, Harley reflected as she finished the final coat of lemon-yellow paint, if anyone from Gotham - with the obvious exception of Ivy - was to walk through the door right now it would be much more embarrassing to be caught decorating a nursery.

Harley knew they’d left it a bit late to start working on the nursery, but they'd spent two weeks in the Green Mountains following their wedding and then it had taken another week to agree on the colour. Ivy had suggested white, whereas Harley had originally wanted red. They’d argued about it for a while with Harley adamant that white was cold and boring and Ivy insisting that red was no colour for a baby’s room, before they had eventually settled on yellow. Pink and blue had been out from the start - for one thing both of them had agreed that they didn't want to know if the baby was a boy or girl at Harley's last scan, and neither of them believed in that gendered bullshit anyway.

That last scan had definitely brought it home to Harley that there was an actual living human being inside her. Instead of an amorphous, big-headed, alien-looking blob on the sonogram, there was an actual baby. A baby that apparently now had sleeping and waking cycles according to the midwife, and naturally those cycles were the reverse of Harley's own. At 3.30am every night without fail, it felt like the kid was turning somersaults in there. Maybe it got that from her too.

Carefully descending the stepladder, Harley looked around at the walls critically and decided that yellow had been a good choice after all. It made the room look bright and sunny even though the sky outside was overcast. Ivy had originally suggested a pastel green instead of yellow, but one look from Harley - who'd been fighting to keep a straight face - had been enough to dissuade her. She had agreed later that yes, it had been a very obvious colour for her to suggest, but that was no reason _not_ to suggest it. Then Harley had said that maybe they should paint two walls red and two walls black while they were being obvious, then they had both laughed and yellow had become the compromise. Eight different colour swatches later, and they'd finally found a shade they both liked.

Harley was pretty glad that she'd refused to consider white for the walls since it appeared that every single piece of nursery furniture in every store was also white, and that was what they'd eventually had to go with. But at least now the room was coming together and looking less like a sterile padded cell and more like someplace fit for a kid. There was a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a changing table already set up; the wall Harley had just finished painting was where the crib would eventually be. Currently it was in their bedroom instead, slowly getting filled with clothes, blankets, changing mats and anything else Harley decided they might need while she was wandering around town. And Ivy wasn't any better. Harley was pretty sure that she kept adding to the pile every time she got home from work. Her wife had objected to the stuffed hyena though - apparently it was for ages three and up, so it was currently exiled to their wardrobe.

Leaving the brush to soak in turpentine, Harley made her way through to the bathroom to scrub paint out from under her nails. As she did, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror above the sink and saw that there were several smears of it through her hair as well. It looked unnaturally bright against the light brown of her natural colour, almost a reminder of the blonde that Harley still imagined herself as. Harley had told herself that she'd grow her hair out and bleach it again after the baby was born, but after the initial shock she still felt every time she saw her reflection had faded, she had to admit that this wasn't a bad look for her. It was definitely different - and if she didn't recognise herself, hopefully that meant nobody else would.

Once she was sure she'd gotten rid of most of the paint, Harley headed through to the bedroom and lowered herself down onto the bed. When you were carrying a baby that liked to practice gymnastics in the dead of night, you started taking naps whenever you could. Curling up on her side, Harley caught sight of the framed wedding photo on the bedside table and smiled. It was hardly a traditional posed picture - it had been taken at some point while they'd been saying their vows so they weren't even looking at the camera. Instead, she and Ivy were both looking into each other's eyes, as if nothing else in the world mattered. The one of them kissing was good too - it was in a frame in the lounge - but this one was their mutual favourite.

Looking at the photo always made Harley feel better - the two weeks they'd spent there had been blissful. All of Harley's fears about her future with Ivy - about the other woman's feelings towards her and the baby - had gone, and the relief she'd felt had been enormous. Like some heavy, oppressive weight shackled to her back had fallen away, and now she could breathe again. It wasn't just her baby now, it was _their_ baby.

But then they'd came home, and Harley had found that other, older fears had come creeping in to take their place.

Batman was the main one. The thought of him finding them had kept Harley awake almost as much as the baby did. And what was even worse was that despite Ivy's reassurances, Harley could tell that her wife shared those fears. That was why they'd set up the crib in their room instead of the nursery - Harley had said she wanted to keep the baby close for the first few months at least and Ivy had immediately agreed. But Harley was sure that her wife knew the exact reason for putting the crib in their room - so that they'd be able to snatch up the baby and run in moments if that became necessary. After all, there wasn't just a hospital bag sitting in the corner of the room. There was another bag beside it which held everything they'd need to disappear again - fake IDs, passports, several changes of clothes and two thousand dollars in non-sequential bills.

Harley had also noticed more indoor houseplants - unobtrusively placed on stands in corners or beside doors, a couple in hanging planters. She had no doubt that they would be absolutely harmless to both her and the baby when it arrived - but it would be a different story for any intruders. Especially since the ones in the hanging planters where they were safely out of reach from a child were both Crown of Thorns succulents. Ivy could do some pretty nasty things with those if the situation called for it.

But Ivy worked during the day, and that was when the fear hit hardest. Because no matter how much Harley was working out with the exercise ball, or aerobics, or those stupid pelvic floor exercises that Ivy kept reminding her to do, she knew that if it came to a fight right now while she was alone, she'd lose. And it was harder to shake these fears off as irrational when she knew Ivy shared them.

If anything leaving the house made Harley feel better. She wasn't worried about going to the gym for aqua fitness after all, she was pretty sure that Batman wouldn't crash a fitness class for pregnant women just to arrest her. Not unless he wanted to be responsible for a whole bunch of premature births. Also Harley had gotten super into swimming over the past few months because it was one of the few physical activities she could do that didn't constantly remind her that she was pregnant, and even the fear of being dragged back to Arkham wasn't enough to stop her from going.

Besides, it wasn't Arkham itself that frightened her; it was the knowledge that they'd take the baby away from her. Sure, it would be placed in a foster home instead of some fucked up prison shit like Bane had been put through, but that wasn't the point. The point was that this was her and Ivy's baby and nobody was going to take it away from them if they could help it. And if the prospect that she might have to give birth in Arkham wasn't already nightmarish enough, there was also the thought that they'd probably sedate her and take the baby away before she could even lay eyes on it. Knowing Arkham, Harley was pretty sure that was exactly what would happen.

"But it's not going to happen," Harley said aloud - half to herself and half to the baby as her right hand slid down to pat her swollen belly reassuringly. "Batman's got better things to do than track down me and Red. There's still plenty of crime in Gotham. It's not like we're doing anything that would get his attention." Feeling a shift of movement in response to her voice, her touch, or both, Harley grinned to herself. "Did I wake you up? Now you know how I feel." As the movements continued, Harley started to count them as the midwife - and Ivy, at length - had told her. Ten in an hour was supposed to be normal and less than that was cause for concern, but apparently there was no upper limit. That didn't seem fair.

Harley was asleep before she got to six.

* * *

She woke up to the feeling of a hand brushing back and forth through her short hair, and pressed her head into the touch with a soft sound of contentment. Harley didn't need to open her eyes to know it was Ivy; she knew that touch and scent well enough. She'd had issues with certain smells that she'd previously liked suddenly turning her stomach all through her pregnancy - the worst one lasting over a week when the smell of melting butter had made her want to puke but hadn't stopped her from craving buttered popcorn. However, Ivy's distinctive fragrance had never been anything but reassuring.

"I finished painting the nursery," Harley mumbled without opening her eyes, then shivered as the hand stroking her hair moved down to her neck, the thumb rubbing small, warm circles into stiff muscles.

"I saw," Ivy replied, fondness edged with faint disapproval. "I told you I'd do it. You shouldn't have been up a ladder."

"Ugh, it was fine," Harley protested, then groaned deeply as her wife's fingers sank into a particularly tight knot between neck and shoulder. "And I was bored. Are you mad?"

Ivy chuckled gently, her other hand moving down to massage the other side of Harley's neck "No, I'm not even surprised," she sighed. "I'm making pasta for dinner and I got you some peaches like you wanted. Did you remember to do..."

Harley didn't let her finish. "Yes, I did my freaking Kegels, and I took that gross iron supplement, and I counted fetal movements this morning. How come less than ten an hour is bad but more than ten in twenty minutes is fine?"

"Because an active baby is a healthy baby," Ivy explained, not for the first time. "And less than ten an hour isn't necessarily bad, but should be checked by the practitioner in case there's anything wrong."

There was no immediate response, as Harley had pushed her head into the pillows to give Ivy better access to her neck and shoulders. "Why don't you just go ahead and get certified as a doula already?" she asked, her voice muffled. "Wouldn't that pay better than working at a garden centre?"

"You know I'd rather be working with plants than people," her wife replied with an overly dramatic huff. "And I like the garden centre. I like that they also sell fair trade products and I especially like that they have their own nursery and propagate their own plants instead of buying from corporate suppliers."

"You're not planning to sell a bunch of Audrey IIs so you can re-enact the ending to Little Shop of Horrors, right?" Harley had rolled half onto her chest, wincing as she inadvertently put pressure on her breasts. Her belly wasn't the only thing that had swollen, and at least it wasn't tender when she pressed it. "You know, the _real_ ending that you bitched about for a literal decade."

Ivy gasped in mock-outrage at the accusation. "I'll have you know I bitched about that ending from the first time I saw the movie," she sniffed. "Because I'd seen the original stage version first, and giving the movie a happy ending completely destroyed the moral of the story."

"Plus the plant was supposed to eat New York," Harley supplied.

"That too," Ivy agreed. "And no, I'm not planning to sell a bunch of Audrey IIs anyway. It's a wonderful idea Harl, but it would draw far too much attention. And besides," she added, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on the back of Harley's neck. "Maybe the happy ending wasn't so terrible after all. I must be getting old."

"Actually I'm starting to believe in them too," Harley muttered into the pillows. "Must be something in the air here. I bet Bernie Sanders has something to do with it." She heard Ivy chuckle in response, then gave a heartfelt moan of outright rapture as she felt Ivy's thumbs press hard into the muscles of her shoulders. "Swear to god Red, I'd marry you if we hadn't done that already. But please keep doing that all the same."

Ivy obliged.


	9. Chapter 9

"Okay, so what do you think about 'Dexter'?" Sitting against the headboard of the bed, Harley looked down at her wife expectantly. "For a boy, obviously."

"Dexter?" Ivy was gently massaging a moisturising skin cream of her own devising into the skin of Harley's swollen abdomen, paying close attention to the spots where stretch marks had already appeared. Their presence didn't bother her in the slightest, but Harley had hated them from the moment she'd seen them. Harley had already tried a variety of commercial creams and oils but had either hated the smell, the consistency or the residue it left on her skin so eventually Ivy had offered to make one for her. It had been a while since she'd been able to flex her chemistry talents and while the end product was mundane compared to some of her other projects it had still been an interesting exercise. "Like from the serial killer show?"

"Ewww, no!" Harley sounded almost outraged, folding her arms across her chest as she glared at Ivy. "Not that at all. I like Dexter because that's Freakazoid's real name."

"Well, I suppose 'Dexter' is better than 'Freakazoid' at least," Ivy quipped, scooping up another blob of cream from the open jar beside her and applying it to Harley's lower belly. At seven months pregnant Harley could no longer see her lower belly without a mirror, and she flinched at the momentary chill.

"Hey, at no point was I gonna call the kid Freakazoid," she grumbled. Ivy's response was to give her wife a sceptical look over the curve of her stomach, and Harley shifted uncomfortably under it. "Okay, fine, maybe I _thought_ about it, but only when it won't settle down in there. I wouldn't have actually gone through with it."

"Of course not. I believe you." The tone of Ivy's voice suggested otherwise as her fingers skated across Harley's skin. Despite containing multiple botanical extracts, along with a large amount of cocoa butter and royal jelly, the skin cream Ivy had made was completely odourless and quickly absorbed. From what Ivy had read there was very little hard evidence to suggest that stretch marks could be prevented with any kind of topical ointment, but there was no harm in trying if it made Harley feel better. Besides, the rhythmic rubbing often made the baby respond by kicking or turning, and feeling that was something Ivy never got tired of.

As she looked up at her wife again, Ivy saw that Harley was watching her with a smile that suggested she knew exactly why Ivy was happy to go through this routine before they went to sleep every night. Maybe it wasn't entirely about stretch marks after all.

"So, you're happy with Dexter then?" Harley asked as Ivy finished her ministrations and put the lid back on the jar. "I definitely like that one best for a boy."

Putting the jar on the nightstand, Ivy shifted upwards to lie next to her wife and wrapped an arm around her waist. She was very careful to avoid Harley's breasts - they had become extremely tender over the past few days, and so sensitive that Harley was refusing to wear anything except loose, oversized T-shirts. "Dexter is fine," she replied, settling her head on the pillows to look up at the other woman. "Frankly I was expecting you to come out with something more outlandish. Dexter actually comes as a relief."

"Outlandish?" Harley gasped in mock-offense. "Fine, you suggest a girl's name then."

Ivy blinked in surprise, momentarily lost for words. "Me? But... don't you want to-"

Reaching down to take one of Ivy's hands, Harley cut her off in mid-sentence. "Hey, this is _our_ kid, remember? I picked a boy's name that you're okay with so you can pick a girl's name that I'm okay with." She paused, considering. "I'll tell you now, Red, we're not calling the kid Persephone. I am absolutely not okay with that one."

"I..." Feeling her face flush, Ivy averted her gaze, caught. "How did you know that was going to be the first thing I suggested? And what's wrong with Persephone?"

Harley's response was a quiet giggle as she slid down from the headboard to lie next to Ivy, facing her. "Because I know _you_ , Red. You had at least three different plants called Persephone back in Gotham - one of them was a big flytrap I think - and you totally used it as an alias several times which I'm guessing is the only reason you're not using it now." Harley grinned at the look on her wife's face. "And growing up with the name 'Harleen', I'm not putting our kid through that. I know it's mythological and all, but 'Persephone' is even easier for other kids to make fun of than Harleen was. Can you imagine the names she'd be called? Like 'Percy' and 'Phoney' and that's not even including the adults who'd think it was pronounced 'purse-phone'. And spraying the other kids with capsaicin isn't an option."

"I would never-" Ivy began, but stopped as Harley shook her head.

"I didn't mean you'd do that Red, I was thinking more of the kid," she explained. "Because bringing pepper spray to school so you can spray it in Stacey McGill's dumb face will absolutely get you suspended for a month. Totally worth it though."

Although Ivy tried to keep a straight face, it cracked almost immediately as she started laughing. "I guess middle school is tough for everyone," she managed to gasp out between chuckles.

"Middle school?" Harley raised an eyebrow. "Jeez, Red, it's obvious you were privately educated. It was in elementary. Third grade, I think. By the time you get to middle school in Gotham you have to go through metal detectors at the gates. Anyway," she continued, quirking her head to one side. "You gonna suggest a name, or do I need to come up with something after all? I mean, Freakazoid's girlfriend was called Stephanie but everyone would think she was named after the girl from Lazytown."

"All right then." Privately, Ivy thought that only Harley would ever think the name 'Stephanie' had come from a kids' show. For a few moments she considered then discarded various floral-themed names. Although she had purposely avoided those for her current alter ego, the chance of Batman finding them through the name of the child seemed remote... but not remote enough. In any case Ivy was touched that Harley was letting her choose - picking a botanical name might make her wife regret that. So she fell back on mythology once again. "What about Maia?"

Harley seemed to mull the suggestion over for a few seconds, though from her expression it appeared that she wasn't unhappy with it. "...is that like May, but with an extra 'a' on the end?" she queried eventually.

"It's spelled with an 'i' instead of a 'y', but sounds exactly the same," Ivy explained. She was relatively sure that Harley wouldn't be interested in the details of the name's origin and the relative differences between Greek and Roman mythological interpretations.

"Can it be spelled with a 'y' instead of an 'i' though?" Harley asked after another moment's thought and a deep yawn that suggested her easy acceptance could be partly chalked up to drowsiness. "That looks better written down and 'y' is a cooler letter than 'i' anyway."

Ivy shrugged, fairly sure that Maya was a variant form of the mythological name in any case. "I don't see why not if that's what you prefer. I could think of some others.."

"No, if you suggest more then I'd have to pick one, and I'm too sleepy for that right now." Harley shook her head as she replied. "Maya was your first choice that wasn't Persephone, I like it, let's go with it. So it's either going to be Dexter or Maya. I'm glad that's settled." Yawning again, Harley leaned forwards to kiss her wife briefly, then rolled over with a soft grunt. "G'night, Red." While she normally preferred to sleep clinging to Ivy's back like a limpet, she'd grudgingly accepted that it just wasn't possible with a late-term baby bump in the way.

Switching the bedside light off, Ivy settled against Harley's back, sliding one arm under her neck and curling the other over her hip, her hand resting gently against the curve of her belly. "Good night, Harl," she murmured, listening to the other woman's soft breathing until it lulled her to sleep.

* * *

A spasmodic jerk beneath her hand startled Ivy back into wakefulness. Blinking drowsily, she slowly raised her head and lifted her arm to rub at her eyes. It was probably just the baby moving. Harley had been complaining that there was no way something the size of a coconut should be able to kick so hard. Settling back down and wrapping her arm back around her wife's waist, Ivy frowned as she realised the skin beneath her hand felt rough and raw. Then Harley's entire body jolted violently.

The sound of harsh, agonised breathing hit Ivy like a wave of ice water as she realised that her wife was convulsing against her, and that the sheets beneath them were soaked with something warm and wet. As she sat up and hauled the blankets away, the coppery scent of blood washed over her in another wave. "Harley?"

There was no response. Trying to fight down her panic, Ivy stumbled out of bed and around to its other side. As she reached it, she felt the carpet squish horribly beneath her feet, sticky wetness welling up between her toes. She didn't remember turning the light on, but suddenly she could see the scene before her in perfect, nightmarish clarity.

Harley was curled on her side, blue eyes wide and staring at nothing as she shuddered and struggled to breathe, her face chalky white and marred with painful red welts that were beginning to blister. The bed beneath her was absolutely sodden with a terrifying amount of blood, the mattress already soaked through and dripping onto the carpet with rapid, rhythmic taps. An ugly red burn circled her waist and around the curve of her belly like a brand seared into her skin, dotted with large, pendulous blisters full of yellow fluid. Ivy had seen that kind of burn before. She knew she had. It was a reaction to... to...

" _Heracleum persicum_. Persian hogweed. Cultivated as a spice, but also a dangerous invasive species that can cause phytophotodermatitis in humans." The male voice was mild and avuncular, the tone of a wise teacher. It was also the voice of Jason Woodrue and coming from directly behind her. "Not as widespread as it's equally toxic cousin, giant hogweed, but a known abortifacient."

Ivy was about to turn around when Harley's gaze suddenly focused on her, her eyes pools of blue with pinpoint pupils. "You did this." Her voice was faint and rasping.

"I... I..." Ivy's gaze was fixed on the awful burn mark around Harley's midsection, noticing for the first time that it ended in a distinct hand print over her belly - exactly where her hand had been. Turning her shaking hand palm up, Ivy saw that her own skin was covered in a layer of tiny hairs... no, not hairs, those were trichomes, like the stinging barbs on a nettle.

"Of course, Persian hogweed is far from the only herbal abortifacient," Woodrue continued, as if delivering a lecture. "Tansy, safflower, wormwood, rue and pennyroyal are all known to have been used to induce miscarriage due to their emmenagogic properties. Used in sufficient dosage, they cause chemical abortion by stimulating menstruation, but may lead to complications such as hemorrhage, multiple organ system failure, uterine scarring..."

Another violent shudder shook Harley as a gout of dark, half-clotted blood oozed between her thighs. Then, with a rattling sigh, her body uncurled to splay across the scarlet-stained sheets, clouded eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling.

"And death," Woodrue added with an unmistakeable edge of satisfaction. Ivy slowly turned to face him, her breath coming in wild, frantic gasps. Her creator stood framed in the doorway, outlined by a harsh floodlight radiance that threw his features into deep shadow. Ivy couldn't tell if she was looking at a man, or the thing that he'd later become. But she saw him shake his head as he tutted patronisingly. "Really Pamela, I thought you knew better by now. You thought you could give up your purpose for this... _human_. You forgot that you're poison. This isn't for you."

* * *

Jerking awake with a gasp, it took Ivy several moments to realise where she was. Her throat felt raw and for a few panicked seconds she was back in Woodrue's laboratory in Seattle with her limbs restrained and a tube wedged into her trachea. But then the warmth of another body against her own brought her back to herself. Harley. Her wife was still sound asleep - long, deep breaths catching in a faint snore. The bedroom was too dark for Ivy to be able to see anything beyond vague shapes, but the skin beneath her hand was completely unmarked and there was no smell of blood.

Carefully pulling away from Harley to avoid waking her, Ivy sat up and buried her face in her hands with a sigh that was almost a sob. Her face was wet with tears, which at least explained why her throat hurt. The skin of her palms was smooth with no trace of stinging hairs, but she shivered all the same at the thought.

"It wasn't real," she mumbled, her voice muffled by her hands. Hearing Harley stir slightly, Ivy fell silent and waited for a few seconds - mentally cursing herself. But her wife settled again with a wordless mutter that suggested she was dreaming. Ivy hoped she was having better dreams than her own.

Slowly sliding out of bed, Ivy pulled on a dressing gown and crept out of the bedroom. The hallway was slightly brighter, overspill from the streetlights outside seeping through the blinds, and Ivy knew the house well enough to make her way to the kitchen without tripping. She paused at the door, concentrating briefly to change her skin to a normal tone just in case, then went in and turned the light on.

_But you're still poison._

Pushing that thought away, Ivy busied herself with making tea - filling the kettle, setting the infuser in the cup, then spilling loose leaf chamomile tisane all over the countertop as her hands shook. Muttering a curse, she swept up the mess as best she could with some paper towels. It was just as well it had only been dried herbs she'd spilled and not boiling water - and considering that Ivy decided she didn't want tea badly enough to risk a second degree burn anyway.

_...skin blistering with pustules full of yellow fluid..._

Moving over to the table with stiff, jerky movements, Ivy half-sat and half-fell on a chair. For several minutes she stared down at the glossy white surface of the table, seeing a vague reflection of herself there. It didn't look human. That seemed appropriate. Crossing her arms over it, Ivy's head slumped down onto them with a quivering sigh.

_You thought you could give up your purpose._

"I never gave up my purpose," Ivy's voice shook slightly as she spoke, her voice hushed. Bad enough that she was talking to herself, but it would be worse still if Harley heard her. "But I can still work towards it without ecoterrorism."

_Yes, that's right. You're making so much difference by telling people what companion plants to grow in their herb gardens._

"Once I'm sure we're safe here and Batman isn't going to find us, I'll do better work. But I can't go back to ecoterrorism. Not now." Taking a deep breath, Ivy let it out slowly. "Maybe never again."

_Abandoning Mother Gaia for one human. Pathetic._

The worst part was that it wasn't even Woodrue's voice. It was her own. But Ivy felt her anger stir all the same. "Two humans," she growled softly. "Two humans I love. And if I'm not allowed that, then maybe this world isn't worth saving anyway."

It seemed that her inner voice had no answer to that one.

Getting back to her feet, Ivy poured herself a glass of water and drank it slowly. It was true. If she couldn't have this life with Harley, what was she saving the planet for anyway? "Maybe that does make me a traitor," she said quietly, looking down at her flesh-toned hands. "But you know something? I don't care. This is what I want." Putting the glass in the dishwasher, Ivy snapped the light off and headed back through to the bedroom.

Harley hadn't moved in the slightest, but her snores were definitely louder. Removing the dressing gown, Ivy threw it in the general direction of the armchair in the corner of the room, pulled back the blanket from her side of the bed... and hesitated.

_...but you're still poison..._

The voice was weaker now, querulous rather than accusing. Harley was immune, and Ivy knew that. Getting back into bed, she carefully resumed her position at her wife's back - though she kept her feet at a short distance to let them get warmer. Cold feet were one of the few things that were always guaranteed to wake Harley up. After another moment of hesitation, Ivy slowly settled her arm back into place around Harley's waist, feeling nothing but smooth, warm skin. Harley made a soft noise that sounded vaguely appreciative, shifting backwards against Ivy's body but showing no sign of waking - the movement was purely instinctive.

Ivy lay awake for some time, her hand stroking Harley's belly gently and feeling the occasional flutter of movement beneath it.

If she couldn't have this, then the world really wasn't worth saving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only stomach so much domesticity before I have to switch to trauma. You're welcome.
> 
> Also don't google 'hogweed burns'.


	10. Chapter 10

Even now waking up to an empty bed still gave Ivy a chill. It wasn’t even like it was unusual these days – sometimes if Harley couldn’t settle again after getting up to use the bathroom, she would just go and watch whatever was on TV at 5am instead. Or bake – apparently mini cupcakes were a big thing on the Food Network right now. The last batch of red velvet ones had been pretty good too.

Yet there was always that first waking moment of cold, sinking dread when Ivy groggily realised that there was no warm body next to hers and opened her eyes to see a vacant pillow. That moment when Ivy’s first thought was ‘ _she’s gone back to him’_ even though the ‘him’ in question was dead. And then the guilt would hit – would she _ever_ stop doubting Harley’s commitment to her? They were married. What else could Harley possibly do to prove her fidelity? The fact that Ivy didn’t know the answer to that question didn’t help.

But what helped even less as Ivy got up and opened the bedroom door was that there was no sound from the television or any sounds or smells of baking from the kitchen. The chill Ivy felt before had returned, now solidifying into a solid chunk of ice in her stomach... until she heard a quiet curse from the kitchen followed by a louder mutter.

“Ugh, that is _gross_.” It was Harley’s voice, and the sound of it made the tension drain from Ivy’s body like a lanced abscess. Maybe she was baking after all – and it wasn’t going well.

Ivy hardly needed to focus now in order to change her skin colour; it was second nature by this point. The green faded into a normal – if pale – tone with almost no effort as she headed along the hallway to the kitchen. Ivy had been expecting to see Harley working on a recipe or possibly cleaning up something that had gone wrong. She had certainly not been expecting to see her wife sitting at the table in her underwear in the silvery early-fall-morning sunlight, applying strips of newspaper across her pregnant belly. From the looks of things Harley was starting a new layer, her stomach already covered from just below her breasts to just above her pelvis.

Harley’s face was screwed up in disgust as she fished another strip of glue-soaked newspaper out of a repurposed mixing bowl sitting on the table. She braced herself as she laid it in place across her belly, but whatever she’d been expecting didn’t seem to be as bad as she’d anticipated. “Okay, that is totally better than putting the first layer on,” she commented to herself, then started at the sound of Ivy’s voice.

“What in Gaia’s name are you doing?” Ivy’s voice was more bewildered than anything else. Whatever Harley was up to didn’t seem likely to cause her any harm, but _why_ Harley was doing it was a mystery to her.

“Morning Red, didn’t hear you get up,” Harley replied cheerfully, patting another length of paper into place. “I couldn’t get back to sleep after the third time I had to get up to pee last night, then I had this awesome idea for a Halloween costume so I decided to work on that instead.”

“A Halloween costume,” Ivy repeated, sounding just as confused. “But it’s still September, Harl. Isn’t it a bit early to be thinking about Halloween?”

“Yeah, but it’s the last week of September. And Halloween season officially starts when Starbucks starts selling pumpkin spice lattes.” Harley didn’t look up as she spoke, intent on what she was doing. “Plus, I wanted to make a start on this as soon as I thought of it. It’s gonna take a while. Coffee’s ready by the way, put it on earlier.”

Moving over to the counter to make herself a cup, Ivy wondered exactly what kind of costume Harley had thought of that would require a paper mache mould of her belly. And there was clearly an aspect of that which her wife hadn’t thought of. Leaning back against the counter as she sipped her coffee, Ivy debated whether she should point it out, eventually deciding it would be better to do it now. “So... Halloween is over four weeks away, right?”

“Right, but like I said I wanted to start this now,” Harley replied. She’d finished the second layer of newspaper, and was now looking at it critically, smoothing out any wrinkles.

“And you’re due in the first or second week of November?” Ivy prompted, wondering if Harley would make the connection.

“Ugh, yes, but I’ll still be able to open the door for trick or treaters,” Harley rolled her eyes, obviously thinking Ivy was going to make an objection there. “It’s not like that’s a dangerous activity or anything.”

Clearly Harley was not picking up on the hints, so Ivy took the blunt approach instead. “Harl, if you make that now it’s not going to fit you in four weeks’ time. Maybe not even in one week’s time. Baby’s not going to stop growing just because it’s Halloween.”

There was a short pause as Harley took that in, then she slumped back in the chair with a deep, frustrated groan. “Crap, I _knew_ I was forgetting something,” she grumbled, then glared down at her paper-covered stomach. “That is really inconsiderate you know, even worse than kicking me in the bladder.” Although Harley was trying to scowl, it wasn’t very convincing. “You’re absolutely sure it won’t fit by Halloween?” she added, looking at Ivy.

“Definitely not,” Ivy replied, struggling to keep a straight face. “Not unless you cut some slits into it or something so it could stretch a bit.”

“No, that would ruin it,” Harley sighed, then straightened up. “Guess I’ll need to figure something out then start a new one.” Digging her fingernails under the edge of the mould she started to peel it off, flinching as it slowly came away with an unpleasant tearing sound. “Ow! This is worse than waxing strips...”

Finishing her coffee, Ivy set about making breakfast. “You didn’t use baby oil or anything on your skin first?” she asked, putting four slices of wholegrain bread in the toaster as her wife made a drawn-out, rueful sound that gave Ivy her answer. No doubt Harley would already have inhaled a bowl of the artificially-coloured candy that she insisted was cereal, but Ivy liked to make sure that she ate something with actual nutritional value as well.

“I’ll remember that next time,” Harley sighed as she managed to detach the paper shell from her skin. “But if I have to wait until just before Halloween to make it then I’m not going to have enough time to finish it, so I’ll need to think of something else.”

Deftly halving and removing the stone from a ripe avocado, Ivy peeled the skin off and dropped the flesh into a bowl, adding salt, pepper and a squeeze of lemon juice. “What if you put a couple of folded towels over your belly and put the paper mache over that?” she suggested as she mashed the avocado mixture with a fork. “Though you’d need to put greaseproof paper or something over the towels first or you’d never get the mould off them.”

Harley had immediately perked back up at the idea, grinning as Ivy set a plate of avocado toast in front of her. “Have I mentioned I love you lately?” she asked as Ivy sat opposite her. “Even if you’re a total hipster when it comes to breakfast.”

“You know I’ve been making this for breakfast long before it got trendy,” Ivy huffed in feigned offence. “And even if it is trendy, that doesn’t make it any less good for you. You need the potassium and fiber. Besides, they’ve been eating it in California since the 19th century.”

“Well yeah, but that’s California,” Harley replied with her mouth full. “They do weird shit all the time, but at least _this_ weird shit tastes good. Better not let the neighbours know you’re growing avocados in the greenhouse though or you’ll need to lock the door before someone steals them. They’re probably worth more than anything we have in the house.”

“There’s already a lock on the greenhouse,” Ivy admitted. “It’s not entirely child safe after all...” She couldn’t help the chagrin that crept into her voice as she went on. “I can’t believe we’re talking about keeping people out of my greenhouse. Back in Gotham that would never have been a problem – sane people wouldn’t have gone anywhere near one of my greenhouses.”

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, which Harley broke first. “Do you ever miss it?” she asked quietly. To Ivy’s surprise, her wife sounded nostalgic rather than upset by the prospect.

“I’d be lying if I said no,” Ivy sighed. “What about you?”

Harley shrugged, still looking wistful. “Same I guess. Mostly I miss the excitement. We did have some good times there, right?”

Ivy thought of Arkham. She thought of Batman, thought of seeing her work go up in literal flames, thought of waking up to find that Harley had left during the night... thought of seeing Harley lying in the asylum infirmary because the Joker had pushed her out a window. And then thought of driving like crazy to try and shake off the cops with Harley laughing beside her as she hurled caltrops behind them. Thought of Harley wriggling her way beneath her arm while they sat on the sofa together watching the news later that night.

“We did,” Ivy said eventually. “But I don’t miss it enough to go back. Even if it would mean that my avocados would be safe from marauding hipsters. You?”

“Same.” Harley’s answering grin lit up her entire face, and Ivy felt herself smiling as well – as if it was infectious. “Sure, there’s some things I regret...” A shadow passed across Harley’s expression as she spoke, her eyes momentarily distant. “Quite a lot of things actually. Most of them involving Joker.”

Ivy had noticed that it was never ‘Mistah J’ now – instead it was either ‘Joker’ or an emphasised ‘ _him_ ’. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d heard Harley refer to the clown as ‘puddin’’ – thinking about it she was pretty sure she hadn’t heard that particularly nauseating pet name since the Joker’s death. It wasn’t something Ivy had commented on or even encouraged – she wanted the growth to be natural, not forced. But she was happy with it all the same.

“I don’t regret this of course,” Harley continued, stroking her swollen belly gently. “But... I kinda wish it was yours. Somehow.”

“Harley,” Although Ivy’s voice was chiding, it was gentle. “You know that as far as I’m concerned, it _is_ mine. Ours.” Getting up, Ivy leaned across the table to kiss her wife. “And nothing’s going to change that,” she added as she moved back.

“I know – we’re in this together,” Harley said, giving Ivy a look that made the other woman feel weak at the knees. “Got time for a quick one before work?”

“I can make time,” Ivy replied, without even looking at the clock on the kitchen wall.

As the ‘quick one’ turned out to take longer than anticipated, Ivy had to rush through both showering and dressing. As a result, it wasn’t until she was halfway through the drive to the garden centre that she realised she hadn’t even asked Harley what her awesome costume idea was anyway.

* * *

The days were definitely drawing in now – the sun slowly sinking in the west as Ivy drove home. The trees were starting to turn as well – blazes of red and copper appearing amid the fading greens of deciduous species and the deep viridian of the evergreens. Autumn was usually a melancholy season for Ivy – winter less so since she spent most of that season being outraged by wholesale tree slaughter or offended by the mere concept of snow. But given that Harley was due in November; she had other things on her mind this year. Maybe that was just another sign that she’d lost her way.

That thought might have bothered her, had Ivy actually cared about it. Instead she was more concerned with little details like the United States leading what was considered to be the ‘developed world’ – a ridiculous conceit from Ivy’s perspective – in maternal death rates. By a considerable margin, which was continuing to rise. Ivy had eventually had to stop herself from researching the subject any further before she spiralled into panic. It was a similar feeling to the one she got when looking at the latest deforestation figures in the Amazon, but at least there the accompanying rage was a good motivator. The same couldn’t be said for gut-wrenching fear.

As she pulled into the drive, Ivy forcibly pushed those thoughts away. There was nothing she could fight there. It wasn’t a situation where killing a few CEOs or destroying a few logging camps would solve or at least ameliorate the problem. All she could do was what she’d already done – invest in the best healthcare available and remind herself that Harley was considered low-risk and 26.4 per 100,000 was still a miniscule percentage. Ivy knew that she needed to focus on what she had – not what she could lose. That kind of thinking wasn’t healthy.

Even so, Ivy couldn’t help a quick, furtive glance around herself as she got out of the car. She saw nothing out of the ordinary, and as she reached out to the garden none of the plants there – even her ‘special’ ones – reported any concerns. If they were being watched, it would have to be from a distance. Just as Ivy hoped that the moment of dread she felt when waking up alone would fade in time, she also hoped that the nagging fear of their past catching up with them – in the form of Batman – would dissipate too.

The moment Ivy opened the front door; she was hit by a strong, musty smell of wet cardboard. The kind of reek she might have expected from severe, long-term water damage. And it seemed to be coming from the kitchen.

Thankfully, when she reached the doorway Ivy immediately saw that there were no burst pipes and no water flooding across the tiled floor. Harley was still sitting at the table – Ivy could only hope that she hadn’t been there all day – but now had a considerably larger paper mache belly mould propped in front of her. She seemed to be adding some kind of texture to it from a bowl of brown... _something_ that looked uncomfortably close to fecal matter.

“Hey, Red,” Harley greeted her with some abstraction, obviously concentrating on what she was working on. “That idea you had with the towels was great, this should hopefully fit by Halloween. Did you have a good day?”

“It was fine,” Ivy replied, noticing that the large stewpot was on the counter by the sink. Out of sheer curiosity, she wandered over to look in it – finding that it was empty except for some wet scraps of what was almost certainly cardboard. If Harley had been boiling shredded cardboard on the stove then that explained the smell – but raised the question of why on earth she would want to do that. “Uhhhhh... what exactly have you been up to?”

“I made paper-mush-clay,” her wife explained without looking up. “Saw a video about it on YouTube – you chop up a bunch of cardboard, boil it, then put it in the blender. And once you’ve done that you mix it with white glue and it works like clay. We had plenty of cardboard boxes in the recycling bin.”

“Uh-huh,” Ivy said dubiously, noticing the bullet blender parts in the sink. “And this is still for your Halloween costume?”

“Yep,” Harley replied cheerfully. “I thought I would need to get baby doll parts or something, but this seems to be working fine. See?” She turned the paper mache mould towards Ivy, who immediately did a double take as her eyes widened.

Sculpted onto the surface of the mould with surprising and shocking realism was a snarling face – still unmistakably a baby’s face, but with the addition of sharp teeth and an unhinged jaw. There were also two clawed hands emerging from either side of the head – the paper clay ‘skin’ around them shaped to look like it had been ripped open from within.

“It’s gonna look great once it’s painted,” Harley continued, oblivious to the look of outright horror on her wife’s face. “I got the idea from Dawn of the Dead – I’m gonna be a zombie pregnant lady with a zombie baby. Because if I have to be pregnant at Halloween, there’s no way I’m not working that into my costume. What do you think?” she added, finally looking over at Ivy. There was a pause as Harley took in her expression. “Well, that is the exact reaction I was looking for...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would also like to learn how to make paper-mush-clay, then I recommend [this video](https://youtu.be/cB0CBaB5cWc) by Bobby Duke Arts.
> 
> Also, the US really does lead what is considered the 'developed' world in maternal death rates. It's kind of terrifying.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that? You want more trauma? Involving nightmare pregnancy/childbirth scenarios? Well okay then!
> 
> If you do not want more trauma, scroll until you reach the first break in the chapter marked by three stars. I won't judge.

Nothing had prepared Harley for pain like this. Throwing back her head, she screamed at the cracked and stained plaster on the ceiling as agony seared through her belly like a lightning bolt. It didn't feel the slightest bit like contractions, it felt like whatever was in there was trying to tear its way out - making her wonder in some odd, detached part of her mind if she had jinxed it somehow with her Halloween costume. But that was crazy. Then, as she slumped against the bed she realised it wasn't a bed at all - it was a stretcher. Like the ones in Arkham. She'd been strapped to those often enough - and suddenly she _was_ strapped to it, heavy leather bands snaking around to encircle her wrists and ankles as another looped itself around her throat and pulled tight enough to crack her head against the thin padding covering the metal structure.

"It's all right," a female voice said beside her as she tried to struggle against the restraints. Harley fought to turn her head in their direction, feeling the edge of the thick leather strap cutting into her throat as she did. She'd expected - or at least hoped - that the speaker would be Ivy, but she wasn't surprised to see that it wasn't. The voice had been wrong. It was Dr Leland, watching her with bored indifference. "It'll be over soon enough."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Harley managed to rasp, her voice hoarse from screaming. She choked back another shriek as agony streaked across her abdomen in what felt like a distinct slash coming from within her. "How did you find us? Where's Ivy?"

"Find you?" Dr Leland raised an eyebrow, mildly curious now. "Harleen, you never left."

Harley's furious denial was forestalled as another excruciating blaze of pain lanced through her midsection, and this time she was sure she saw some unformed shape writhing and twisting beneath the hospital gown that was stretched tightly across her swollen belly. Had her stomach been that big before? It looked grotesquely huge and bloated, bouncing slightly like a helium balloon at the end of its string. Harley was pretty sure that it shouldn't be doing that. Ivy would know. "Where the hell is Ivy?" she repeated, forcing the words out in an agonised snarl.

"In her cell of course," The tone of Dr Leland's voice suggested that the answer was obvious. "She'd poison the baby."

"No!" Panting for breath as she shuddered in torment, Harley shook her head. "No, Ivy researched it, she did tests to make sure it would be okay. We're in this together. She promised!" Her words spiked into an anguished scream as the pain intensified, and with sudden clarity Harley realised she wasn't in a hospital at all. Dr Leland had been telling the truth - this was the medical bay in Arkham. She could even smell it - not damp and mould like most of the asylum, here it was sharp odours of antiseptic and urine instead. Patients always pissed themselves during ECT. So had the Robin kid. "...no, this isn't real!" Rather than a denial, the words came out as a plea instead.

"Oh Harleen," For the first time, Dr Leland actually sounded sympathetic. "You don't even know what 'real' is. I mean, you think the Joker's dead, don't you?"

Feeling a chill run down her spine, Harley stared at the other woman in horror. "But... but he is, I know he is, I _saw_..." This time when the pain came, it was crippling. Harley felt her body go rigid, as if it was no longer under her control, but now the movement within her belly was violent, like someone struggling against a net.

"But he always comes back," Harley could no longer see Dr Leland, but could still hear her voice - she sounded completely unfazed by what was happening, as if this was normal. "One way or another, he always comes back."

Before Harley could even think of a response, the pain reached an explosive crescendo. Then, with a spray of blood and an almost comical tearing sound, a thin, pallid figure burst out of her stomach to sway back and forth in front of her like a jack in the box. The tiny Joker grinned up at her, blood clotting in his green hair, the knife that he'd used to cut his way out gleaming in one small fist.

"Hi momma," he gurgled at her gleefully, then lunged forwards to sink needlepointed teeth into her left breast.

* * *

Harley's shriek filled the room as she bolted upright to find herself in darkness. Scrabbling around herself blindly, one hand struck what might have been a lamp and knocked it to the floor with a dull thud while the other skittered across a warm shape beside her. A shape that was starting to move.

"Harley?" It was Ivy's voice, but Harley barely registered it as she managed to scramble out of bed only to immediately fall over onto her hands and knees. She was going to be sick, she could feel her stomach heaving and she couldn't remember where the bathroom was. Harley couldn't remember where _she_ was - she could still smell Arkham. Her eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness and now she could make out a door to her left - either that was the ensuite or it was the walk in wardrobe but whatever it was she was going to be sick in it.

Half crawling and half stumbling to the door, Harley groped for a pull cord as she pushed it open. Breathing a sigh of relief as she found it - the walk-in had a lightswitch - Harley pulled it and immediately recoiled as the light bounced off clean white tiles to stab at her eyes with stiletto blades. Blindly feeling her way to the toilet, Harley slumped down to her knees and vomited for what felt like hours, until there was nothing left in her and her diaphragm ached from retching. It was only then that she realised there was a hand on her back and someone was talking to her.

"...wrong? Do you want me to call an ambulance?" Slowly turning her head, which felt like it was several sizes too large for her neck, Harley saw that Ivy was kneeling on the floor behind her, green eyes wide with worry. Reaching up to pull the flush lever with a shaking hand, Harley let herself fall back against the other woman. Rinsing her mouth out was pretty high on the agenda, but right now Harley didn't think she'd be able to make it back to her feet; her legs felt like rubber and the additional weight she was carrying didn't help.

"...no, m'okay," she managed to mumble, then felt another shudder run through her. Pushing away from Ivy to throw herself back across the toilet bowl, Harley retched again but nothing came up except a thin, acidic stream of yellow bile. This time she decided it might be a better idea to lie across the toilet seat instead. Harley heard Ivy get up and pad away back into the bedroom and for a second she felt a pang of abandonment at the thought that she was just going to go back to bed. Then she heard the bedroom door open as Ivy's footsteps faded along the hallway. Harley made a half-hearted effort to stand, then felt the baby move inside her and dropped back to her knees with a soft whimper. Folding her arms across the toilet seat, Harley leaned her head on them and flinched every time she felt the presence in her belly shift and turn, half-expecting the sensation to spike into a sear of agony.

Hearing Ivy's footsteps returning, Harley turned her head to one side so that she could see the bathroom door from the corner of one eye. She had a horrible feeling that if she tried to raise it, she'd start dry heaving again. What was even worse was her momentary conviction that it wouldn't be Ivy who came back through that door, it would be Dr Leland. Or worse yet, the Joker.

_...sharp teeth ripping a mouthful of quivering flesh from her breast..._

But no, the returning figure had red hair and the pale pistachio ice cream skin that Harley only ever saw when they were alone and the curtains were drawn. Relief filled her like a warm bubble and Harley managed a crooked smile as her wife knelt beside her and offered her a glass of water. She took it gratefully, feeling the ridges of the tumbler press into her palm. It felt cool. It felt _real_.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ivy asked as Harley took a mouthful of water, swished it around then spat it out. She could feel Ivy's hand on her back again, rubbing slow, comforting circles around her shoulder blades. Harley rinsed her mouth again, then leaned back into her touch, letting it ground her.

"Yeah," she croaked, gulping down the remaining water in the glass. "Really glad I cut my hair short now," she added with a desultory chuckle. For a moment her stomach roiled and Harley was convinced that the water was just going to come right back up, but instead it gradually settled. "Thought I got over this shit after the first trimester," she added with a weak attempt at humour.

"Do you have a headache?" Although Ivy was trying to sound reassuring, Harley could hear the underlying anxiety in her voice. "Any stomach pain, or vision problems?"

"I don't have pre-eclampsia, Red," Harley replied with a sigh. "Just had a bad dream is all." She felt gooseflesh ripple across her arms as the image of the Joker-creature's bloodied grin flashed before her eyes, then tried to push herself to her feet. Ivy looped one arm around her waist and helped her up, still looking worried.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently, helping Harley over to the sink.

"Right now I just wanna brush my teeth and go back to bed," Harley muttered, leaning on the sink with both arms and staring down into the brass plughole. She didn't want to look at her reflection in the mirror over the sink, afraid of what she might see behind her. "And you have work in the morning, you should be sleeping."

Ivy made a dismissive noise in response. "You know I don't need that much sleep, Harl. I'll be fine. And I'll sleep better once I know you're okay."

Turning her head to look at the other woman, Harley managed a weak smile despite the continued wriggling she could feel in her belly. Sure, it didn't hurt _now_ , but whatever was in there was obviously awake. And that thought made her want to start retching all over again. Maybe if she punched it really, _really_ hard it might stop. But she'd need to get Ivy out of the room first. "I'll be fine in the morning," Harley said, hoping that would be true. "Go back to bed, I'll be through in a minute."

"All right, but call if you need me." Although she sounded dubious, Ivy left all the same and a moment later Harley heard the bedroom door open and close again. Obviously Ivy was going back to the kitchen instead, but that just meant she'd be too far away to hear anything untoward.

Clenching her right hand into a tight fist, Harley started to raise it, then hesitated. Punching yourself was easy, but hitting hard enough to do any damage? That was the difficult part. Harley wasn't even sure if it was possible to induce a miscarriage that way. She was even less sure if that was even what she wanted. Leaning her elbows on the edge of the sink, Harley buried her face in her hands with a deep, shuddering sigh.

"It was just a stupid dream," she mumbled to herself through her fingers. "How the hell could it have a knife in there anyway? That would definitely show up on the sonogram." Harley was surprised by how much better she felt after vocalising that - maybe because of how ridiculous it sounded when she said it out loud. Just as well Ivy was out of earshot, she would definitely have had questions if she'd overheard. She could still feel the baby moving, but Harley reminded herself that was normal - the stupid classes had said so. You could even see it moving at this stage if you watched.

Harley decided not to watch and picked up her toothbrush instead.

* * *

When she went back through to the bedroom, the lamp had been placed back on the bedside table and switched on, turned down low so that it was only just glowing with a soft yellow light. Ivy was sitting up on her side of the bed, and lifted the covers back as Harley settled down beside her with an inelegant grunt, pulling them over her afterwards. Lifting a mug from the nightstand on her side, Ivy handed it to Harley, careful not to let it spill.

"Here, this should help. Drink it." For once it actually sounded like Ivy was making a request instead of giving an instruction. And to Harley's surprise, the contents of the mug looked like regular cocoa, not some weird herbal concoction. Smelled like it too, though there was a faint spicy scent there that suggested some extra ingredients. Not alcohol unfortunately - Harley could have killed for a double shot of rum in this thing.

Taking a small sip, Harley was just as surprised to find that it tasted like cocoa too. Cocoa made with almond milk of course, but still. "Is there anything weird in this besides the plant milk, or did you seriously make me regular hot chocolate?" Harley asked, glancing at the other woman with a raised eyebrow.

"Well it's _almost_ regular hot chocolate," Ivy replied, with a soft smile that made Harley feel better than any amount of hard liquor could have done. "Some oat straw and ginger, but not much and I'd be surprised if you could taste it over the obscene amount of cocoa and sugar you like in yours." Shifting closer to Harley, Ivy wrapped an arm around her waist, their bodies seeming to slot together like puzzle pieces. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

For a few minutes, Harley avoided the question by drinking the hot chocolate. The heat of the mug in her hands was soothing, as was the warmth of her wife's body next to hers. The dream didn't seem so terrible now, more like something from a campy schlock horror. Maybe it really had been caused by her zombie pregnant lady costume - Harley was pretty sure that was what Ivy would blame if she told her about it. But the feelings the nightmare had left her with were another story. "It was just a stupid dream, Red," she said eventually. "But... what if I don't want this anymore? I know it's way too late to change my mind, but what if I don't want the baby? What if I hate it?"

"Harley..." Instead of sounding upset as Harley had feared, Ivy's voice was gentle instead, one long-fingered hand running lightly up and down Harley's side. "Those kinds of worries are normal. They don't mean you hate the baby, or that you'll be a bad parent."

"But what if I am?" Harley asked quietly, her eyes fixed on the mug in her hands. "After what I helped the Joker do to that Robin kid... if I was in Arkham you know they'd never let me keep this baby. And maybe they'd be right."

"You're not in Arkham," Ivy said, her presence by Harley's side calm and reassuring. "And we're in this together, remember?"

Turning her left hand slightly until she saw the gleam of gold, Harley looked down at her ring. A ruby with an ivy leaf on either side. Supporting it. Closing her eyes, Harley hesitated then spat out the question that worried her the most. "...what if... what if it's like _him_?"

"It won't be," Ivy's reply was immediate and certain, but not the angry denial Harley had expected. "I'm pretty sure that none of his issues were genetic. Falling in a vat of chemicals certainly isn't. And besides," she continued, the arm around Harley's waist giving her a gentle squeeze. "It's still half you."

Finishing the hot chocolate, Harley set the mug down on the bedside table, then leaned back into Ivy with a deep sigh. "Yeah, and I'm hardly Miss Mentally Stable either, huh?"

Pulling her close, Ivy settled Harley's head onto her shoulder, running her free hand through her short hair in soft, soothing strokes. "You've been doing pretty well so far," she replied. "Hannah Rosenberg's been able to keep out of trouble for the past seven months or so."

"You mean Hannah Woods-Rosenberg," Harley corrected her with a lazy smile. "And June Woods-Rosenberg's been pretty good at keeping a low profile too. Can't be easy when you have to explain soil pH to people at least ten times a day."

"I have to grit my teeth constantly," Ivy admitted. "But I can live with that."

Nuzzling her head into the other woman's shoulder, Harley took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh, trying to imagine the fear and anxiety being carried away with it. "I love you, Ivy," she said softly. "You know that, right?"

"Of course I do. I love you too, Harl." Lowering her head, Ivy kissed her lightly on the forehead. Harley guessed that she was too tired for a proper makeout session, but that didn't really matter since Harley was pretty sure that she was as well. She'd thought that she'd never be able to get back to sleep after that nightmare, but now that she was curled up beside her wife it didn't seem like such a bad idea after all. She was safe here.

Ivy must have guessed what she was thinking, because the next thing Harley knew, she was being eased down onto her left side - 'best position for mother and baby' or something she vaguely remembered. Harley managed to make an inarticulate noise that sounded like 'thanks', then burrowed her head into the pillows.

The last thing Harley was aware of before she fell asleep was Ivy's presence at her back, arms curling around her waist to hold her close, hands crossed over her swollen belly. Maybe it didn't matter if there was a tiny Joker in there after all because Ivy was here to fight it. Now _that_ was a weird thought...


	12. Chapter 12

The _Abies Balsamea_ in the fenced yard behind the garden centre were all doing well, their heights averaging an almost uniform five and a half feet. Ivy still felt uneasy and more than a little treacherous about what was planned for them, especially since she'd pitched this idea to the centre's owners to begin with.

All of the balsam firs were destined to be Christmas trees - with the singular exception that none of them would be killed for that purpose. Instead they would be delivered in large pots with root balls intact, ready to be decorated with whatever gaudy nonsense the temporary owner desired. The trees' needs weren't particularly complex - kept in a cool spot with sufficient water they would tolerate being indoors for a few weeks. Then, in the first week of the new year, the garden centre would collect them again - hopefully free of tinsel and glitter - and plant them in the Northern Piedmont.

Even though she'd known similar schemes had worked well in Oregon and California, Ivy still felt ridiculous when she'd suggested it. But to her surprise, the middle-aged husband and wife - Michelle and Kevin Bryson - who owned the centre had not just seized on the idea, they had immediately insisted on using balsam firs as they were a native species to Vermont. Which had inevitably led into a long digression about one of the treks the couple had taken along the Appalachian Trail when they'd been in their twenties. Ivy no longer found these digressions as irksome as she had to begin with - they were rooted in the couple's love of nature after all.

Still, Ivy had also been concerned that customers wouldn't be interested in renting a tree for Christmas when they could get a dead or plastic one for half the price at Wal-Mart. But apparently the garden centre's clientele shared the Brysons' enthusiasm for both trees and the smell of a live balsam fir. Every one of the forty trees had been reserved within a fortnight. Michelle had even commented that they'd need to expand the program next year to meet demand. Apparently - when given the option - people were happy to pay more to rent a live tree than to buy a dead one.

Ivy wasn't sure if she liked the way that thought made her feel optimistic for once.

Leaving the yard, Ivy headed back through the centre's rambling outdoor plant section, sensing nothing but contentment from the current inhabitants. It hadn't been much different when she'd first came here - Ivy had been braced to deal with neglected, sickly shrubs and leaves decorated with paint and glitter. That was certainly what she'd have found at Wal-Mart. Instead she'd found healthy plants with no artificial decorations, and everything in the garden section had been native to North America because the Brysons also had strong feelings about invasive species. That had been Ivy's first indication that maybe working here wouldn't be as awful as she'd thought.

It wasn't ideal of course. As much as she'd come to like it here, it wasn't going to make a huge difference to her goals in the long run. Reducing harm was all well and good, but if she really wanted to do some meaningful work towards ecology that didn't involve criminal activity, it would need to be in a scientific or higher educational setting. As a researcher, or university professor... and at least her time here had persuaded her that maybe working with actual people wouldn't be so grating if they shared her interests. But, of course, even under a false name and identity, her sudden appearance in the scientific community would absolutely draw attention. And then it would only be a matter of time before Batman would ruin everything.

But Batman wasn't important right now. Neither were her own ambitions. All that mattered to Ivy for now was Harley and their baby. Maybe in a few years she would be able to risk going into a more high-profile career, but for now this place suited her needs. Besides, Ivy doubted that Harley would want to be a stay-at-home mom forever either. Maybe once their child was old enough for preschool they'd both want to consider their long-term plans. Leaving the country was still an option after all...

... assuming they got that far.

Dismissing that thought with an irritated scowl that she felt rather than saw, Ivy went out into the car park through the side gate rather than go through the equally rambling aisles of the main building. She saw Kevin sitting on the bench by the bird feeders by the main entrance and raised a hand in acknowledgement, getting a brief nod in response so as not to startle the song sparrows mobbing the feeders. Being polite to her employers wasn't so bad when they'd always been polite to her.

Getting into her car, Ivy checked her phone and was slightly surprised to see that she hadn't received any messages from Harley since that morning - the message she had received was a photograph of two pumpkins on the kitchen table along with a large carving knife and the caption 'next victims'. At the beginning of October, Harley had asked - somewhat warily - how Ivy felt about jack-o'-lanterns. Obviously she'd been expecting them to fall into the same 'cruel and pointless' category as Christmas trees, but instead Ivy had shrugged and asked how many Harley wanted. Harvesting ripe fruits was a far cry from felling a tree in its prime in order to decorate its corpse after all.

Although Ivy would have been happy to provide Harley with pumpkins the size of a small car, they had both agreed that might draw undue attention. Instead she'd grown six large ones from vines in the greenhouse, which had the added bonus of being rot resistant - even after carving they would still last a couple of weeks. There were already two on the porch, and obviously Harley had been planning to add some more - the lack of any updates suggested that perhaps the designs Harley had chosen weren't going to plan or she still hadn't settled on any. Ivy could only hope that her wife hadn't gotten distracted and decided to add yet more gore to her zombie costume instead.

By the time she reached home, dusk had already fallen and the streetlights had switched on - as had the various Halloween-themed yard decorations that were popping up like mushrooms across the neighbourhood now that Halloween was less than a week away. It looked like Harley wasn't the only fan of the season in the area. The two jack-o-lanterns on their porch were flickering with imitation candle glow from the solar lights inside. The first had been carved with a demonic, snarling face in a rather jarring contrast to the second, decidedly less menacing grin of the Cheshire Cat. After making the first one, Harley had commented that it might be a bad idea to make all of the lanterns scary, 'because kids here probably scare easier than they do in Gotham'.

Privately, Ivy was sure that if anything sent trick or treaters running, it would be Harley's awful costume. Now that it was painted it looked ten times worse - especially since Harley had decided to add some fake intestines hanging out of the tear in the belly and an excessive amount of fake blood to the entire ensemble. Ivy could only be grateful that her wife didn't have the budget for animatronic parts for the zombie fetus - or appropriate sound effects.

As she pulled the house keys from her pocket, Ivy noticed that there were still dark crescents of dirt ingrained under her fingernails from working in the nursery. While that didn't bother her in the slightest, she made a mental note to scrub them properly once she got inside - given how close Harley was to her due date Ivy was getting increasingly concerned about contamination. Newborns were fragile things.

And of course, the biggest contaminant was Ivy herself.

Harley was immune of course, but there was no guarantee that the same would apply to the baby, despite the booster vaccine Ivy had developed. It was a worrying notion - there would be no way to know if the baby had fully inherited Harley's immunities until after it was born and even then they wouldn't know for sure until Ivy had the chance - and privacy - to run some blood tests. Which would mean that she'd need to avoid direct skin contact until they knew for sure whether it was safe or not.

Ivy had thought that she'd stopped being uncomfortable with her powers and what had been done to her biology a long time ago. She'd thought that she'd embraced both. But the idea that those things might make it unsafe for her to be near Harley's baby brought a whole host of repressed doubts and regrets surging back. It made her feel more like Pamela Isley than she had for over a decade, and she hated it. But she couldn't deny it. After all, her altered body chemistry was the reason she was incapable of having children herself. Her blood was too toxic to support new life.

Snapping herself out of her fugue and realising that she'd been standing on the doorstep for several long moments now, Ivy unlocked the front door and went inside. "I'm home," she called, not entirely expecting an answer. Harley was usually napping on the sofa by this time since she rarely managed to get a full night's sleep now. Hanging her coat by the door, Ivy headed along the hallway and towards the bathroom to clean her nails properly.

"Hey, Red." The sound of Harley's voice drifting from the kitchen stopped Ivy dead in her tracks. Not from surprise that she was awake but from how tense and exhausted Harley sounded. That was concerning. Forgetting about her nails for now, Ivy headed into the kitchen instead.

Harley was slouched at the table with the two pumpkins still in front of her and a half-empty glass of water by her elbow. She looked absolutely wrung out, but managed a weak smile as Ivy entered the room. "Uhhhh... I know you're just back from work and all, but I kinda... think this might be it. Pretty sure it's not just practice contractions this time."

Ivy nearly tripped over her own feet as she rushed over to kneel beside her wife's chair. "Harl, you... you're sure? You should have called me, why didn't you? I'd have come home right away and-" Her words were abruptly silenced as Harley laid two fingers against her lips.

"It's okay," Harley said, sounding much calmer than Ivy felt. "Remember all the stupid classes you made us go to? It's gonna be a while before anything happens. I thought it was just whatever the hell those practice contractions are called but then a couple of hours ago this... gunk came out, and the contractions didn't stop. So, uh, baby's a bit early?"

"A couple of _hours_?" Ivy repeated, her voice rising into a horrified squeak. "Why didn't you call me?" Springing back to her feet, Ivy paced around the room nervously. She'd had a meticulously arranged plan for what she'd do when Harley went into labour but her mind had gone completely blank. The only things she could remember were the many, many things that could go wrong during childbirth.

"Because you were working!" Harley replied, watching Ivy pace with vague amusement. "Also I was kinda worried you might crash the car or something since I thought you might react like - uh- pretty much exactly like this to be honest."

"Like what?" Ivy demanded, the words coming out as an undignified squawk. "I'm fine, you're the one in labour. We need to go to the hospital. Now."

This time Harley couldn't help a breathless chuckle. "No, you are totally freaking out and it's actually kind of hilarious. Contractions aren't every fifteen minutes yet, waters haven't broken as far as I know, so according to those dumb classes - which you were there for, Red - it's not time to go to the hospital yet unless I wanna sit in the waiting room for a few hours. Which I don't." Leaning her head on one arm, Harley made a sound that was half groan and half sigh. "Kinda wishing I'd gone with a home birth now. I don't wanna go anywhere like this."

"Absolutely not." Ivy was pacing again, finding that her memories of antenatal classes had gone to the same mysterious mental black hole as her childbirth plans. What Harley had said did sound familiar though - obviously she remembered the classes better than Ivy did. That was galling.

"Ugh, why not?" Slumping across the table - only just managing to catch the glass before it fell - Harley glared at her wife resentfully. "People totally do that now, why are you so against it? It's not like you've never patched me up before and it's more _natural_ \- isn't that sort've your thing anyway?"

"I..." Pinching the bridge of her nose between forefinger and thumb, Ivy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's not the kind of 'natural' I'm used to dealing with, okay? If anything went wrong then..." Pausing, Ivy tried to suppress the quiver in her voice. She failed. "I don't like hospitals any more than you do, Harl, but in this particular situation they're just safer, okay?"

There was a moment of silence as Harley's blue eyes narrowed, then widened. "Holy shit. You're afraid!" Ivy wasn't sure exactly what to make of her wife's unmistakeable delight as she made that statement. "You are genuinely shit scared! And you're not even the one having the-" Harley's words broke off into a deep groan as she grimaced, disappearing beneath the edge of the table as she doubled over in pain. "...ugh, why the hell did I ever think I wanted this?"

Fighting her burgeoning panic down and firmly stamping on it, Ivy pulled one of the other chairs around the table to face Harley's and sat down, taking both of her wife's hands. "You're right. I'm scared." Straight-out admitting it made her feel a little better at least. "But I also believe you can do this," Ivy added, forcing herself to sound confident. "Whatever happens, I'm here." She immediately regretted those words as her imagination seized on them, pushing away the mental image of Harley's motionless body on a blood-soaked mattress.

Harley was still doubled over, but her hands had wrapped around Ivy's and squeezed hard as she grunted in pain. "What time is it?" she gritted out between her teeth. It wasn't a question Ivy had expected, and for a moment she wondered why that was relevant before checking her watch.

"Twenty to seven," Ivy replied, her voice bewildered. "Why?"

"Fuck. Still an hour and a half before I can take more Tylenol," Harley muttered as she slowly straightened up. "You wanna know the worst thing?" she continued, looking at Ivy with a lopsided grin. "After all that time I put into my Halloween costume, looks like I won't be using it after all because baby wants to be early. Hell, maybe they want out in time for Halloween; guess I can't blame them for that."

Ivy's eyes widened at her wife's words, another chill of fear rippling through her. Harley wasn't the only one in danger. "It _is_ early," she breathed, then got to her feet. "We should go to the hospital now, I don't care what they said at the classes. If the baby's premature..."

"Red, I'm either thirty seven or thirty eight weeks. That's early term," Harley replied, not making any effort to stand. "And that's assuming they got the age right at the first scan anyway."

"Early term can still have complications!" Ivy's response was sharper than she'd intended, anxiety edging her voice. "And what if they _did_ get the age wrong, but they over-estimated instead? Then you could be thirty five or thirty six weeks. And that's definitely premature. We're going now," she repeated, her voice hard as glass and twice as brittle.

"Ugh, fiiiiiiine," Harley rolled her eyes as she sighed. "Maybe we should take an Uber though because I don't know if I trust your driving while you're freaking out like this."

Stung, Ivy glared at her wife. "I am _not_ freaking out and I am perfectly capable of driving, thank you very much," she growled, turning around and storming out of the kitchen to retrieve the hospital bag from the bedroom. While there, Ivy also retrieved a pair of leather gloves which she only fumbled putting on twice - both the wrong way round and then upside down. They were thin enough not to significantly impair her dexterity, but thick enough to protect others from skin contact with her. Accidentally poisoning hospital staff was something Ivy wanted to avoid.

"...yeah, she is totally losing it," Harley's voice drifted along the hallway as Ivy headed back to the kitchen. Her wife had shifted to slouch back in the chair, ostensibly talking to the baby as she stroked her belly gently. "I mean, there's the regular crazy and all but this is extra-crazy," Harley went on, looking up to meet Ivy's gaze. "But don't worry, I know she'll still be a good mom," she added with a reassuring smile.

Ivy tried to respond in kind, but her own smile felt tight and strained, like it was two sizes too small. It frayed as she watched Harley pull herself to her feet using the edge of the table to steady herself, then lean heavily on it as she grimaced with another contraction. Breathing heavily as the pain abated, Harley steadied herself then straightened up decisively.

"I'm wearing my costume," she announced abruptly. "If I'm not getting to scare kids with it, I'm gonna scare the nurses instead." Seeing the look on Ivy's face, Harley folded her arms stubbornly. "Hey, I put a lot of work into that thing and someone besides me should get to appreciate it. Either I get to wear it, or I'm not going anywhere until my waters break." Looking at her wife's determined expression, Ivy realised she could either try to talk Harley out of this ridiculous idea, or just go along with it to save time.

To what would no doubt be her eternal regret, Ivy decided to save time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, live Christmas tree rentals are a real thing, as are ones that you can plant in the garden afterwards. Which are the only kind of Christmas tree I can see Ivy tolerating. (she still thinks it's ridiculous but hey, at least no trees had to die)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - this chapter contains moderately graphic childbirth. If this is a subject you are uncomfortable with or squicked by, you should probably avoid it.

At the start, Harley had thought to herself 'this isn't as bad as I'd thought it would be'. Sure, the contractions hurt, but Tylenol had taken the edge off and they didn't really compare to the pain she'd felt after being pushed out a fifth floor window. Or, more accurately, the pain she'd felt when she hit the ground after being pushed out a fifth floor window. But now, hours later, Harley was reconsidering both her previous stance on the matter and also her birth plan. The minute she'd found out that their local hospital offered nitrous oxide pain relief in labour, Harley had insisted that was what she wanted. Partly because the idea of being confined to the bed by an epidural made her uneasy, but mostly because it was laughing gas.

Harley had never felt less like laughing. Maybe it was the wrong gas.

When they'd first arrived at the hospital things had seemed to be going well. Not only had Harley managed to browbeat Ivy into letting her wear her Halloween costume, but she had also managed to persuade her wife to make a stop at Dairy Queen so Harley could get a Blizzard. Harley had the feeling that at that point in time she could make Ivy agree to anything if she played the 'I'm in labour' card, but after getting her large Royal Rocky Road Trip she had decided not to push it. For now.

The first thing that hadn't gone to plan was the reaction to her costume. As they'd walked into the maternity wing reception - which had been decorated with Halloween-themed wall hangings and streamers much to Harley's approval - the lady at the desk had taken one look at her and grinned instead of flinching.

"Let me guess - baby decided to try and crash a Halloween party?" the woman had asked. Later Harley would find out that women turning up in costume wasn't so unusual at this time of year - the hospital usually got a few every October. Personally, she thought that she might have gotten a better response if she'd had time to go crazy with the fake blood before getting in the car.

To her relief, after a quick check-up which had established that, yes, she was absolutely in labour, Harley had been moved to a room instead of having to sit in the waiting area. And it was a really nice one - more like a hotel than a hospital room. Though maybe it just felt like that because her previous hospital stays had all been in Gotham. That or the frankly obscene amount of money Ivy had paid out for comprehensive health insurance.

However, the next few hours passed with absolutely no progression whatsoever besides the contractions, which she had previously been so blasé about, increasing in both frequency and intensity. Harley had originally thought of them as not being much worse than period cramps, but period cramps _went away_. These didn't, and finding new ways and positions to balance on the rubber ball the hospital had provided wasn't nearly enough to distract her. Not even with the added incentive of nitrous oxide.

Ivy had been no help at all to begin with, too busy interrogating the poor midwife on whether the baby would be considered premature and what possible complications that could cause. To be fair to the midwife, she'd taken Ivy's agitated questioning with extreme good grace - Harley had barely been listening as the woman had gone over her records and scans but whatever she'd said had finally managed to calm her wife into a state that could best be described as 'anxious but no longer ready to snap'. It was definitely an improvement.

At that point Harley had considered sending Ivy to get her another Blizzard. But when her wife had come over to sit on the chair she was balancing against and leaned down to wrap her arms around her, Harley changed her mind and tilted back on the ball to put her head in Ivy's lap instead. Looking up at the other woman, Harley had seen the worry in her eyes and given her the most reassuring smile she was capable of in her current state. The thought that Batman might pick this time to show up - that maybe he'd been watching them and knew this would be when she was most vulnerable - had been an uncomfortable weight in the back of Harley's mind. But Ivy's presence was enough to keep that fear at bay. Sure, she might be vulnerable right now, but given Ivy's current state of nervous tension Harley was pretty sure that anyone who made a sudden move around her would be dead in five seconds flat.

God, hopefully her wife wouldn't end up killing an obstetrician or anything.

And now, six hours in, Harley had decided that maybe being pushed out a window hadn't been so bad after all. At least then she'd been given morphine afterwards - the painkillers she had now barely seemed to touch the contractions at all. She'd even been reconsidering whether having her movement restricted by an epidural would be _so_ bad - Ivy had been no help there at all, her only input some iteration of 'whatever you want Hannah'. Harley had decided that she hated that name. Truly unfortunate that now she was stuck with it. At least she could still refer to her wife as 'Red' without raising any suspicions; Harley was pretty sure she wouldn't have remembered to call her 'June' anyway.

The one-sided discussion on the pros and cons of an epidural had been rudely interrupted by Harley's waters breaking. She'd been rocking back and forth on the birthing ball at the time in the vain hope that it might help with the contractions and had immediately slipped off it to land with a thud on the floor. Ivy was beside her instantly, but before she could scream for a nurse Harley had ordered her to calm down. Which had worked, much to Harley's amazement. Instead of ignoring her and causing a scene anyway, Ivy had helped her up - though Harley could feel her shaking. It struck her that for the first time in... ever, her wife wasn't insisting that she knew best. Right now Harley was running the show. Maybe she'd have enjoyed it more if she hadn't been in active labour.

"Ugh, now I need a shower," Harley grumbled, gingerly peeling her soaked sweatpants away from her thighs. "Guess there's no point changing into fresh pants because if this baby isn't out of me in the next hour I wanna get a Caesarean." Instead of telling her she was being silly and it was far too late for an elective c-section, Ivy said nothing, just looked at her with wide, anxious eyes. It was starting to get creepy. "Also I think you need a Xanax. Or six."

"That wouldn't work on me, you know that." Despite the uncharacteristic quiver in Ivy's voice, Harley was glad that she'd finally gotten a response that wasn't just a variation on 'okay honey'.

"Well, I'm sure if you just kept taking them then something would happen eventually," Harley replied, shaking her wife's arm off with an irritable grunt and heading for the ensuite bathroom. She stopped in the doorway as the next contraction hit, gritting her teeth and leaning on the frame until it passed. "Like, maybe you'd fall asleep or something so..." She paused, glancing at her watch and seeing that it was nearly 1am. Looking back at Ivy, Harley saw that she was using disinfectant wipes to clean both the ball and floor with sharp, jerky movements that betrayed just how nervous the other woman was. "Jeez Red, maybe you should go home and get some sleep," Harley suggested, genuinely concerned. "This could go on for another six hours you know. Maybe more." Much to her relief, this time there was a flash of indignation in Ivy's gaze as she raised her head to glare at her.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said sharply, though Harley found the asperity in her voice comforting. "If I need to sleep, I'll sleep here."

"Okay, but you have to take one of the chairs then. I got dibs on the bed," Harley said with a teasing, only slightly pained grin that widened as Ivy rolled her eyes.

"I could sleep on the floor and it would still be better than some of the places I've slept," Ivy groused, turning back to her cleaning. "And more comfortable."

Still grinning, Harley went into the bathroom but left the door open. She knew her wife would just fret about her falling in the shower like an octogenarian if she closed it. She also strenuously hoped that she hadn't jinxed things by saying they could take another six hours.

* * *

As things turned out, it only took another four and a half hours for things to 'really start moving' as the midwife had put it. The woman had told Harley her name several times, but it just hadn't stuck - maybe because of all the nitrous - so Harley had been referring to her as 'lady' since she had started hanging around more. Which had maybe been a couple of hours now? Harley wasn't sure, her concept of time had been shot to hell since the lady had shown her how nitrous was supposed to be used during labour - deep breaths just before a contraction hit, not whiffs whenever she felt like it. And the contractions were a lot worse now - making the initial ones seem like a pleasant memory. There was an intensity and an _insistence_ to the pain that was unlike anything else she'd been through.

Midwife Lady had told her to scream if she felt like it and Harley had taken her up on that with the intention of making her regret it, but most of her yells had dissolved into helpless giggling. She had demanded to know who had invented the stirrups she was supposed to use and if they'd been a blacksmith - the question had made sense at the time, something to do with horses - and had only just managed to stop herself from shouting that they didn't even have shit this undignified in Arkham. Harley was pretty sure the lady had explained it, but the knowledge had bounced off her mind like sunlight off a mirror.

At some point in the brief, hazy lull between contractions Harley had decided that if this killed her - a concept that she currently viewed with dispassionate detachment - then she wanted her epitaph to be 'at least now I don't have to change any diapers'. She'd announced this to both Midwife Lady and Ivy - who had been sitting beside her at the time - with widely differing impact. Midwife Lady had simply nodded and reminded her to breathe - Harley wasn't stupid, she knew she needed to do that to live - but Ivy's eyes had gone wide and tearful as her expression filled with horror. Harley thought she might have seen a similar look on the other woman's face before, but not for a long time - because last time she'd seen it had been shortly before leaving the other woman to return to the Joker.

Harley had been about to apologise when another contraction had surged through her - Midwife Lady telling her to push because apparently she thought this was something that she needed to be reminded about as well - and afterwards her mind had been fuzzy and all she could remember was that Ivy would be upset if she was gone. So she'd told Midwife Lady that if anything happened to her then she was to tell her wife that she hadn't done it on purpose and also that she loved her. Then she'd made the lady promise to do it. Midwife Lady had assented without fuss, but none of this seemed to be making Ivy feel any better if the look on her face was anything to go by.

There had been a frantic, somewhat high-pitched discussion between Ivy and Midwife Lady at that point but Harley hadn't really been paying attention. Well, Ivy's part had been high-pitched anyway, Midwife Lady had responded with the same irritating-yet-reassuring calm she'd had this entire time. Then Harley had gotten annoyed because Midwife Lady was _her_ Midwife Lady so her wife wasn't allowed to hog her attention. Then she'd gotten upset that her wife was upset and started crying because holy shit the nitrous must have gone bad and also she wanted this whole thing to be over. Childbirth had been a terrible idea to begin with.

The next thing Harley knew, Ivy's chair was empty but that was because her wife was now kneeling on the bed behind her, giving her something to brace against. She dimly remembered Midwife Lady suggesting something like that because the current setup made it difficult to hug. The sight of the vacant chair had made Harley start in fear until she realised that Ivy wasn't gone. Harley could still hear her voice, and now she felt vaguely insulted by all the times the other woman had said she talked too fast. The words were spilling out of her wife so fast that even trying to keep up with them was a lost cause - Harley was pretty sure that 'please' featured pretty heavily but the rest was nonsense.

It didn't matter though, the important thing was that she was _there_. Harley could feel her wife's lips against the side of her neck - which was probably a big reason why she had no idea what Ivy was saying - and her arms wrapped around her. Harley was still clutching the nitrous mask in one hand; even if it had gone bad she still wanted it. The other was clenching a twisted handful of the bedsheets, but as she felt Ivy's touch on her wrist she let go of the starchy cotton to take hold of the other woman's hand instead. Moments later Ivy's fingers were being crushed in a death grip as Harley panted through another contraction, but to her credit she didn't even flinch.

Harley guessed that she should really stop thinking 'okay, _now_ it can't get any worse' because every time she did, it got worse. It wasn't just the contractions now, it _burned_. She could barely see Midwife Lady through the blur of tears and sweat, but the fact that she seemed happy with the situation made Harley hate her.

"Just one more big push," Midwife Lady told her, making the hate crystallise into outright murderous intentions. What the hell did the stupid woman think she'd been doing these past couple of hours?

"You said that three big pushes ago!" Harley snarled, her voice sounding guttural and unfamiliar even to herself. "If these pushes were any bigger then I'd overthrow the Weimar Republic!" She was so pleased with that joke - especially given current circumstances - that her next howl of pain was mixed with laughter.

As well as being an inconsiderate bitch, Midwife Lady was also a liar - although the pain reached its peak with the next push it was absolutely not over. But at that same point some kind of high kicked in - either hormonal, adrenaline or just the effect of the accumulated nitrous oxide and Harley felt what she could only describe as a sudden release of pressure.

Well, she probably could think of better ways to describe it, but they would all be pretty gross.

For the first few moments the relief was so intense that all Harley could do was lie back against her wife - who was so tense that a bundle of sticks would have been more comfortable - and pant. Despite what movies and TV had taught her, there was no immediate cry which made her want to at least attempt to sit up but at the same time she was afraid to look. Mostly because she still couldn't shake off the nightmarish image of a tiny Joker.

"Congratulations momma," Midwife Lady told her with pride that she certainly hadn't earned. "It's a girl." As a warm weight was placed on her chest, Harley decided that the lack of screaming from either her wife or the midwife meant that it was safe to look, so she did.

Harley's first thought was that the baby's skin was a weird off-white colour before she realised that was just patches of gross waxy stuff. Not only that, but it was wet and bloody as well, its face a mass of puffy wrinkles. And it was still attached to her by a twisted, yellowish-blue umbilical cord - which was still pulsing against the skin of her belly. But most importantly, it was her daughter and she was beautiful. Harley had just started to reach towards the baby when her tiny face creased even further, blue eyes blinking open to squint at the world around her.

Apparently the newborn wasn't impressed, since she immediately began to wail.


End file.
